


The Amendment

by Laily



Series: Capsule Collection: Tales of Magic, of Sorrow, Joy and of Love [3]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Pregnancy, Brotherly Love, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt Stephen Strange, Hurt/Comfort, Intersex Loki (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Lives, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnancy complications, Pregnant Loki (Marvel), Protective Stephen Strange, Protective Thor (Marvel), Romance, Sick Loki (Marvel), Strangefrost, Tony Stark & Stephen Strange Friendship, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Lives, Wedding Bells, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2019-12-30 07:13:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 96,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18310754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laily/pseuds/Laily
Summary: Doctor Stephen Strange and Prince Loki Odinson have been blessed with a beautiful baby boy. They think it is now time to try for another baby, but as always life, other stuff and sheer bad luck gets in the way.





	1. The Morning After

They sat curled around each other on the daybed against the French windows, quietly watching the sunrise as they pondered their latest…predicament.

“I’m sorry, Stephen.”

Stephen lifted his head off the glass and looked down. “What? Whatever for?”

“You did say you wanted no more accidents.” Loki looked slightly guilty. “I don’t know how this happened. I _was_ careful.”

“Oh, darling.” Stephen pressed his lips against his temple. “My sweet Loki.”

He closed his eyes, as if remembering a memory that was not necessarily unpleasant. “I have a suspicion it was me.”

He could feel Loki stiffen in his arms, but he sounded his usual cool, regal self. “How so?”

“You forget, I had not seen you for some weeks,” Stephen hesitated, “And last night you were so…well, you know –” Loki lifted an eyebrow, “That I may have unintentionally…wished…it.”

“Unintentionally _wished_ it?” Loki huffed in disbelief. “Must have been one Hel of a pilgrimage, Sorcerer Supreme.”

“Well, in my defense I did say it was a journey to cleanse the soul, clarify the thoughts, centralise the chakras, fortify the – ”

“Oh it fortified _something_ , alright.” Loki rolled his eyes. He elbowed Stephen’s groin none too gently, eliciting a painful, _“Ow!”_

Loki grimaced when Stephen’s hand momentarily fell away to grab at his own crotch; Loki quickly palmed it in place against his stomach once again with his own hand.

“Don’t take it to heart, Stephen.” He tried to muster a reassuring smile when he saw Stephen’s stricken face. “The pain caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry you had to hurt that much, Loki.”

“At least I have you close this time.”

“Yes…I remember how Thor looked when he came to get me the last time. He was scared _shitless_.”

Loki smiled fondly at the memory. “Thor is such a drama queen sometimes.”

Stephen snorted. “Seriously? Compared to you, he’s a lowly understudy.”

“ _Hey.”_

Instead of returning Loki’s offended glare, Stephen looked out the window with a serious look of his own, turning the mood sombre once more. “Loki, I know we agreed to wait, but…” Stephen pulled back to gaze down at him. “Are you ready?”

Loki’s green eyes stared back at him, unblinking.

“I will not lie to you, Strange. I am quite afraid.”

“I am too.” Stephen tightened his hold around Loki’s waist. He remembered all too well the difficulties Loki had had to endure when he was carrying Stian. “Hence my question…I will never force this upon you, unless it is something you want.”

Loki reflected on the hopeful tone in Stephen’s voice.

He interlaced his fingers with his husband’s, and when he finally spoke, his voice was soft. “You really want this.”

“Forget about what I want, Loki,” Stephen mumbled into Loki’s temple, eyes staring out the window at the dawn fast breaking the horizon. “I want to know what you want.”

“Stian does get lonely sometimes when you’re not around.”

“Yes…strictly speaking in human terms of course, but I read somewhere he’s around the perfect age for us to give him a little brother."

“Or a little sister.”

Stephen stared at him. Loki smiled weakly.

“This one’s a Princess.”

Stephen’s eyes misted. Unable to hold himself back any longer, he seized Loki’s lips in a deep, crushing kiss.

“You ready?” Stephen asked breathlessly once they broke apart. Loki nodded.

“Still not too late to back out.” Stephen seemed to have lost himself in Loki’s green eyes. “Last chance.”

“You promised me five, Strange,” Loki whispered. “One down, four to go.”

Stephen growled, and swept Loki up in his arms, reappearing a split second later in their bedroom. “One Unification Spell coming up!”

_____________________________

“Is Pappa okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine, he’s only resting.” Stephen ran a hand distractedly through his son’s hair. “Pappa’s just a little bit tired today, darling.”

“I’ll read to you tonight, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What would you like to read?”

“Whatever you want, Daddy,” Stian said softly.

Stephen stared at him for a few seconds. “How about…the Gingerbread Man?”

“Okay.”

It did not take long for Stephen to notice that Stian was not paying attention to the story. He kept looking in the direction of his parents’ bedroom.

“Stian, you okay, buddy?”

“I’m fine, Daddy.”

He caught glimpse of Stian’s hands trembling as they clutched the covers; he peered down at his son’s face and was instantly alarmed when he saw tears glistening in his eyes.

“Stian, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Daddy.”

Stephen slowly closed the book and put it aside on the bedside table. He circled an arm around his son’s body and pulled him into his lap. “Tell me what’s wrong. I promise I won’t get mad.”

“Is Pappa going to be okay?”

Stephen frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He smells different.” Stian sniffled. “And he looks different.” Tears rolled down his snowy white cheeks in great blobs. “The colours, they’re all different, Daddy.”

Stephen knew just what his son was talking about, gifted as he was from the day he was born, but it never failed to astound him by just how much; Stian’s seiðr grew by leaps and bounds each day, and to be able to discern Loki’s changing aura at his young age was nothing short of extraordinary.

“Is Pappa going to die?”

Stephen buried his face in Stian’s glossy hair and breathed in deeply. “No, he’s _not_.”

Stian peered at his father’s face, stubborn tears still clinging to his hazel eyes, wide and frightened.

“Your Pappa is very strong.” Stephen hugged him fiercely. “And so are you.”

“You and I, we’re a team, right?” Stian nodded furiously. “We will take care of him, won’t we?”

Small arms wriggled and clung to him desperately. “I love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, buddy.”

As Stephen stroked his son’s back up and down to quell his tears, he leaned his back against the headboard and closed his eyes, trying not to think of the promise he had just made his son and the so many ways the universe could fuck them over to make him break it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any dialogue between Stephen and Loki that you see in Italic is spoken telepathically through this special connection they have i.e. Mindspeak.


	2. The Relic Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fiasco, a destroyed fresco and an almost-loss, a bargain is struck. Or not.

It was eight weeks later that the Asgard Academy of Magic had its grand opening ceremony; it was Loki’s pride and joy, his pièce de résistance, his brainchild –

_“Yes, yes, I get the picture, Loki.”_

_“I’m still mad at you, you know. You said you’d be here.”_

Loki could just feel Stephen sigh over the connection. He had been on Stephen’s case about it for days.

_“My sweet, gentle Loki, I don’t know how many times I have to say I’m sorry until you can put this to rest, but I’ll say it again. I’m sorry I can’t make it, I know it’s your special day but –”_

_“Yes, yes, there’s a super-important, super-dangerous relic arriving from Tibet or Budapest or wherever and you need to see it interred and sealed so the world doesn’t end et cetera et cetera –”_

_“Loki.”_

_“Fine, Stephen. I’ll see you when I see you, I guess.”_

_“Love you.”_

_“Yeah, right.”_

“What are you all grinning about?”

Loki’s head snapped up.

“Valkyrie. You startled me.”

“Uh-uh.” She cocked her head. “There’s something different about you.”

Loki surreptitiously gave himself a once-over. Everything looked as it should be. “Is there.”

“I don’t mean the way you look.” Valkyrie lifted an eyebrow slyly. “Or do I?”

“Brother!”

_Oh good. Saved by the King._

“Thor.”

As the King of Asgard drew closer, his aura emanated through the chamber like a ray of sunshine, causing almost all of the trainees to abandon their spells to catch a glimpse of His Majesty the King; every crook and cranny having been made brighter simply by having the presence of Thor, the God of Thunder. The _seiðkonur_ in attending was clearly anxious for having so many spells incompletely cast; for good reason too as the unclosed loops of energy were highly volatile and unpredictable.

“Thor, I think you’re distracting the pupils, come.” Loki said sharply. He locked eyes with another _seiðkonur_ who had begun ushering some of the smaller children out.

“Nonsense! I think you’re doing great work here, Loki. I would like to stay and watch a little longer –”

Loki’s worst fear came true as the more volatile spells began to coalesce and merge and the resultant geyser of energy shot heavenward –

“Your Majesty!” “Highness!”

And blasted the entire fresco ceiling into pieces. Loki’s heart leapt in his throat as debris the size of boulders started to rain down on them.

“The _children!”_

Without thinking, Loki called upon his seiðr, coaxing his intrinsic magic to bend to his will and in a split second, a blast of raw energy erupted from his hands and a giant green and gold energy field domed upward from the ground as he awakened the elements; he lifted his hands and the barrier lifted, pushing the debris off to hover in the air –

“Go.” He gritted his teeth. “Thor, Val, get everybody out of here. Now!”

After five long minutes, his arms started to shake with exertion and perspiration trickled down the sides of his face.

“That’s everybody out, Loki!” Val called from the side door, where everybody had escaped to the outside grounds.

He nodded tersely, and in a split-second, teleported out to safety and he reappeared outside with the rest just as they heard the loud, resounding crash of the collapsed ceiling landing on the ground.

Thor stared at him aghast. “Loki…”

Loki held a shaky hand to his forehead.

“Is everybody alright?”

“Yes, Your Highness, the children are all accounted for, and no one was hurt, all thanks to you.”

“Good, good.” Loki put his hands to his waist. “I think it’s safe to say school’s officially out for the day, yes?”

Thor was still staring at him, looking as guilty as Hel. “Loki, I am so, so, sorry…”

“Worry not, Brother. You go on with the rest of the tour, I shall join you shortly after I am done cleaning up the mess here.”

Loki gestured for the royal retinue to lead the way, with the King of Asgard reluctantly in tow.

He raised his hand to Thor, waving his brother along, a sickly smile on his face.

“ _Smile_ , Valkyrie.” Loki gripped her elbow and led her out the other door.

“Whu-What are you doing?”

Loki grunted suddenly and Valkyrie automatically circled an arm around his waist to catch him as he stumbled.

“Help me to the Healers.”

Valkyrie narrowed her eyes suspiciously, for she never did see Loki get hurt –

He must have seen her expression.

“I am _pregnant_.” She watched as Loki surreptitiously reached to touch his lower stomach. His hand was shaking. A painful breath whistled past his lips, “Call Stephen.”

“Can’t you do your magic telephone thing?” Valkyrie could feel Loki leaning more and more against her with each step they took.

“Can’t. Right now it is taking everything I’ve got not to faint.”

But the moment they stepped around the corridor and out of Thor’s immediate sight, Loki’s knees buckled, and he did not even feel his body hit the floor.

“Lackey!” Dimly, he could hear her curse but it was too much like trying to speak underwater so he did not even bother replying. “Lackey, you bastard, get up!”

“Guards!” She leapt to her feet, _“Thor!”_

_No…_

_____________________________

Awareness returned to him slowly, in peaks and troughs that wavered from full wakefulness and dazzlingly bright colours to muted wisps of whispers and fleeting grey shadows.

Loki listened to his body. The pain in his abdomen was still there, dull and throbbing, but to his great relief (because he would so _hate_ to wake up to excruciating pain) it was nowhere near the sharp, eviscerating, _crippling_ agony that had earlier threatened to steal all breath and all life – his eyes flew open.

“Whoa, whoa!” He felt hands immediately push his shoulders forcefully down until he was lying on his back once more. “Loki, easy!”

“Stephen,” he gasped, clawing at his husband’s arms as he tried to rise again.

“Shh. You’re fine. You’re alright.”

Loki’s heart pounded madly in his chest as his lips worked to form the words, _“Baby?”_

Stephen’s hand slowly came to rest on Loki’s still-very-flat stomach. “She’s alright too.”

Loki’s eyes watered. He could not speak.

“She _is_ ,” Stephen reassured him again. “Did the scan, saw the heartbeat and everything.”

Loki leaned his head back deeper into the pillow, his eyes squeezed shut. _Oh thank the Norns._

“Thor is beside himself.”

Loki palmed his eyes and stifled a groan, “He knows?”

“He carried you here.” Loki’s eyes near popped out of his head. “The King’s authority supersedes yours, you know. Valkyrie did the right thing.”

“I was beside myself too.” Stephen closed his eyes and shook his head, his hand still stroking Loki’s stomach gently. “I don’t know what was worse, having somebody call me to tell me you were hurt or that you were hurt badly enough you could not call me yourself.”

“So what is it this time then?” Loki closed his eyes again, bracing for the worst.

“Medically speaking? A threatened miscarriage. Magically speaking? I think you overexerted your seiðr.” Stephen inhaled deeply. “Hopefully, it’s nothing a few days of bed rest won’t fix.”

Loki groaned. “Bed rest? So _soon?_ ”

When Stephen did not respond, Loki opened his eyes.

“Stephen.”

The Sorcerer Supreme’s face had gone pale, his eyes glazed over.

“Please don’t…” Loki laid his own hand atop Stephen’s still resting on his belly, “Don’t make that face.”

Stephen still looked stricken.

“I’ll do as you say.” Loki stroked the back of Stephen’s hand. “I’ll stay in bed, I promise.”

Stephen finally looked up. He asked quietly, “Would it be too much to ask for you to stay in bed until the baby is born?”

“Surely you jest.”

Stephen only smiled sadly. “If only.”

Loki leveled him with an icy glare. “No. I am pregnant. Not an invalid.”

“How would you like to bargain?”

“Oh, this should be good.” Loki rolled his eyes. “I forgot you like to haggle.”

“What if I stayed in bed with you?” Stephen gently eased forward and propped himself up with both hands braced against Loki’s sides, leaning down so close until their noses were almost touching.

“What about your precious relic?”

“ _You’re_ my precious relic.”

“As devastatingly handsome as you are, Strange, I am going to need a bit more convincing than that.”

Stephen caught Loki’s lips and kissed him gently. And kissed him again. And again.

Loki’s pale hands reached up to caress his cheeks, cool thumbs playing across the high arches of his cheekbones.

“Do reconsider,” Stephen murmured. “I could do this all day.”

“I’m sure you could.” Loki’s lips curved into a smile against his own.

And so they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title: There was a show I liked to watch in the late nineties...the Relic Hunter. (must hunt it down for a re-watch now) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	3. The Call of the Void

“So you left our three-month-old son in the care of strangers just so you could whisk me away to…” Loki looked around, and up at the lofty ceiling. “Where are we?”

“Take a guess.”

Loki sniffed and walked around. “This is your apartment.”

“Elementary, my dear Watson.”

“We were in the middle of a wedding, Strange. Did you leave your manners behind as well back in Asgard?” Loki teased.

“Stark wouldn’t mind. He’s probably too busy swallowing his own sick with nerves. So, we’ve got…” Stephen calculated silently in his head…5 minutes per Avenger, excluding Tony of course, since he would be too preoccupied with getting married – “Twenty-five minutes?”

Loki laughed silently. “Well, I’m not sure how Romanoff feels about babies but I’m sure Bruce or Thor would be all too glad to take Stian off her hands.”

“Do you still own this place?”

“Nope.” The resounding ‘P’ at the end echoed off the walls.

“Ooh. We’re trespassing. I like that even better.”

Loki sounded light-hearted but there was something in his eyes that made Stephen hesitate.

“What is it, Loki?”

“The walls, they speak to me.” Loki’s fingers danced against the side of his leg, restless. The tap-dancing stilled as he listened. “Anger. Hate.”

His green eyes bored into Stephen’s and for a spine-chilling second he felt as raw as an exposed nerve. “Hopelessness.”

“You were not happy here,” Loki murmured.

“The old me must have liked it somehow.”

Loki tutted, grimacing in distaste.

“Sorry. It is not to my taste.”

Stephen lifted an eyebrow quizzically.

“Too…what is the word…” His fingers now danced in the air, as if he could grasp the word right out of nothingness, “Flashy?”

Stephen looked pointedly at his suit. “Says the guy wearing a suit tailored within an inch of his life.”

“Yep. And I look damn good in it too.”

“It looks like the suit you wore the first day we met.”

“I know.”

“It’s the exact same suit.”

“I know.”

“I simply have to wonder, can you even breathe in that?”

Loki turned around and preened, smiling prettily.

“Now, now, Strange, it is beginning to sound like you’re jealous…”

Stephen sulked. “I hate it when people eat you with their eyes right in front of me.”

Loki studied him. “And yet you are thinking of undressing me and making love to me right here on the floor with the entire city watching.”

Stephen glided over and pressed his body against his Ice Prince, pinning him to the floor-length window – “I am an enigma.”

Long moments of silence ensued.

Stephen felt Loki’s hands wrap around his wrists and gently prise them off his slim hips.

He twisted around gracefully despite Stephen’s encumbering physical presence to face the window, his back unnaturally stiff. “Come, love. Let us away from here.”

“I take it you do not like it.” Stephen murmured into the back of his head.

“L'appel du vide,” Loki murmured, placing a very white hand flat against the window. His forehead thumped softly against the glass. “I cannot stay here, Stephen. The urge to throw myself out the window would be too much to bear and I do not trust myself to resist it.”

“That’s what I’m here for, Loki. I will ground you.” Stephen wrapped an arm around Loki’s shoulders, albeit possessively, but he cared not one damn bit. “I will always ground you.”

________________________________

The pain lingered. There would be moments when he would be perfectly fine one minute and doubled over in agony the next, and nothing seemed to be helping. Healers came and went. Stephen’s healing spells no longer helped, nor did Wong’s.

“The sudden expenditure of that much energy had drained his seiðr considerably, and with the demand of a growing baby in his womb, he is not able to replenish it as quickly as he is losing it.” Wong was reluctant in his deduction, but the implication was clear. “He is now running solely on reserves.”

Thor was inconsolable in his anger with himself. “Were old Asgard still standing, Loki would need only to bask in the light of its two suns and breathe its untainted air for not a day for the magic of Yggdrasil to course through his veins threefold and rid him of all ills and pains.”

Weeks went by and Loki grew weaker each day.

“Thor has gotten in touch with Wakanda. King T’Challa and his sister are expecting us, they can help.”

“That is completely unnecessary,” Loki muttered. “It’s just a stomachache, Stephen.”

Stephen watched as Loki brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around the front of his shins as he breathed through what must be another bout of painful cramps.

Stephen tried not to look at how the thin layer of his tunic delineated every step of Loki’s spine; he needed only to feel the bony shoulder in his grasp to realise just how much weight Loki had lost.

“You are not getting any better, Loki.”

Loki’s eyes were open but they stared ahead unseeing.

The icy pit in Stephen’s stomach grew, and he recognised it as terror.

“Please. For me.”

“Okay, Stephen. I’ll go.” The fire had long gone out in his eyes, but now it seemed to have entirely left his voice as well.

Stephen carded his fingers through limp black hair, tucking it behind Loki’s ear, letting the back of his fingers linger on Loki’s hot, dry temple.

“Take a walk with me.”

When Loki spoke, his voice was quiet. “I don’t think I can.”

That in itself struck a chord of fear so deep Stephen felt an almost physical pain in his chest.

_No._

Silently Loki encircled his upper limbs around Stephen’s neck before slowly curling his body inward so Stephen could gather him in his arms; the ease with which Stephen lifted him curdled his blood with dread, and Stephen breathed a prayer as his lips brushed against Loki’s temple –

A heartbeat later, Loki found himself sitting on the balcony, ensconced in Stephen’s lap, head tucked against the crook of his husband’s neck with the Cloak heavy and warm around his shoulders.

When Stephen held him like this, it somehow made the stomach pains bearable.

The minarets of the Healing Halls glowed an iridescent red, green and gold against the pitch blackness of the starless night. “Your colleagues and all those under your tutelage are all praying for you. See?”

“It is way past their bedtime," he groused.

“It is because of _you_ that they still have a bedtime, Loki.”

Loki closed his eyes and listened to the steady beatings of Stephen’s heart.

“You are angry,” he murmured. His fingers curled around The Cloak’s lapel; he could feel the bunched up muscles of Stephen’s neck tensing against his skin. “Why?”

“I should have been here.” When at last Stephen spoke, it did not sound like him for the tinge of fury lacing his words. “I should have protected you. Should have protected you both.”

Loki cringed as a ripple of pain wracked his abdomen as if on cue. “No,” he gasped out. “No, Stephen. You can’t.”

“Loki.”

“Don’t you lose yourself. Not now.” Loki looked up with eyes bright with pain and smouldering indignation. “Remember what you once said to me.”

Stephen gazed down at him, his own eyes glistening, his eyebrows wrinkled in wonder.

“That you will always ground me,” Loki said fiercely. “Always.”

His face, as pale as moonlight, crumbled. “And I need you to ground me now.”

Stephen’s eyes smarted; he wrapped his arms tighter around Loki and hugged the thin frame to him fiercely as it shuddered against another onslaught of painful spasms. “Oh, Loki. My dear, sweet Loki.”

Stephen buried his face in Loki’s hair, kissing the top of his head over and over. “I love you so, _so_ much.”

“I have to make a choice, don’t I.”

“We can always try again, Loki.” Stephen sounded as if he was weeping.

Loki closed his eyes against the pain in his heart and a silent tear escaped, leaving a glistening trail down the hollow of his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title: L'appel du vide or the call of the void, that urge you get (or I do, sometimes) to throw yourself off the ledge or ram the car into the opposite lane while driving just...because.


	4. The Impossible Child

* * *

“Having not been used for more than a thousand years, the bulk of Thor’s seiðr we could utilise for healing is largely dormant. Akin to an atrophied limb after a stroke, you don’t use it, you lose it.” Stephen massaged two fingers along his eyebrow. He was developing a bad headache. “To awaken it we will need at least a year, and that is if you are willing to undergo intensive, round-the-clock retraining of your seiðr.”

“Loki does not have a year!”

“I know that, Thor,” Stephen said, a tad more snappishly than he intended. “But that is the best we have come up with so far – your lightning is good and all, but despite its abundant supply, we still have not figured out a way to channel it into Loki without it wanting to expunge the baby from his body!”

“What?” Valkyrie’s eyes bulged.

The Sorcerer Supreme sighed heavily. “Thor’s elemental energy is compatible with Loki and would have replenished his diminishing seiðr readily, had it not recognized our baby as a foreign body and tried to expel it the last time we tried to harness it.”

He still could not erase the image and the sound of Loki _screaming_ in excruciating pain, blood spreading everywhere. It took both Wong and Stephen almost half a day to purge Thor’s seidr from Loki’s body; thankfully they had managed to salvage the pregnancy.

“And what about your magic, Stephen?” Thor looked at him imploringly.

Stephen’s jaw tightened. “My magic takes to seiðr like oil to water. You have seen the evidence of it yourself, remember?”

“Surely there must be a way…” Thor prodded his temples with his fingers in frustration. He banged a fist on the table. “The Tesseract. We could use it to bring Loki to any of the territories, of what has remained of the Nine Realms, if it is close enough to Yggdrasil the magic of the Tree of Life could surely heal him. Alfheim, Vanaheim, any of these would do!”

Stephen was silent for a long time.

“Even if we could obtain the Space Stone from its hiding place, the strain of intergalactic travel would tear Loki to pieces in his current condition. He can barely withstand the brunt of teleportation, let alone leap from one universe to another.”

“All I’m hearing from your mouth is nay and naught, Brother.” Thor’s temper was rising by the second.

Stephen straightened in his seat, his face blanched in a mix of apprehension, guilt and _fury_. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty, but I am working my ass off to find a way to save your brother who also happens to be my husband! Or did you forget?!”

“Yes, and as the Royal Prince Consort of Asgard, it is your duty to use whatever means necessary to save his life!” Thor thundered. “I can see the answer clearly as day, and I see it in your eyes as well!”

“It is not that simple, Thor!” Stephen was shouting now.

Valkyrie could feel the hair rising on the back of her neck. All this bickering, this _useless_ squabbling when all good it did was wasting precious time, time they knew they did not have

“How is it that we have the most powerful Deity on this side of the galaxy, and the most powerful Sorcerer on earth and still we can’t do jack?!”

None was more surprised than the Valkyrie to hear the words coming out from her own mouth.

Her heart pounded in her chest in time with the rush of blood in her ears.

“My Lady Valkyrie.”

A page stood by the door. “His Highness Prince Loki is requesting the presence of your company as he wishes to partake in a light stroll on the palace grounds with Prince Stian.”

“Go with him, Brunnhilde.” Thor assented. “I wish I could accompany my dear Brother and sweet nephew but it seems I and my good brother-in-law here have further to discuss.”

She knew when she was being dismissed but as slighted as she was, she also knew she had gotten off easy. Thor seemed to have chosen to both ignore and forgive her outburst. “Yes, Majesty.”

She threw the Sorcerer Supreme a warning look for good measure before striding out of the Council Chamber.

___________________________________

“He’s got my face all wrong.” Loki studied the ceiling.

The magnificent fresco painting had been restored to its former glory.

“I think he’s done a not so mediocre job, your Sorcerer Supreme.” Valkyrie swept her eyes over the beams, now fortified ten-fold with magic and vibranium. “Completed the restoration in less than a day.”

“Thor looks alright.” Loki’s nose crinkled. “Hair’s too big, though. He doesn’t have that much of it anymore.”

“He’s the King. He has to look grander than the rest of you.”

Loki walked slowly down the length of the Royal Aisle, studying the burnished gold of the Grand Altar from afar.

“It looks great, yes?” Valkyrie sounded strangely earnest for some reason. “Fit for a Royal Wedding, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes. For funerals too.” Loki said cheerily.

That was _absolutely_ the wrongest thing to say, and she bristled.

“With all due respect, Your Highness, I suggest we refrain from further talks of death and funerals.” Valkyrie rebuked brusquely. She stole a glance at the little prince who was lagging a few steps behind with his au pair, marveling at colourful horses depicted on a stained-glass window. “Young ears are listening.”

“My apologies, my lady,” Loki murmured. In a gesture of truce, he gestured for her to take a seat with him on one of the pews. He nodded at the au pair as a sign of consent, watching his son’s disappearing back as his carer took Stian by the hand and led the little prince down the grand staircase, most likely to take to the gardens outside.

“Everyone thinks I should let her go.” A whisper.

Valkyrie slowly took her seat on the other end of the pew, letting her arm hang down the back of it. If she stretched it out, she could almost touch the tips of the Prince’s black hair, let loose past his shoulders. From this angle, Loki looked much thinner than she remembered.

“To save my life, I must kill my own child.” His eyes were hollow, the shadows under his eyes darker. “What do you think, Val?”

She let the pause hang in the air for a good few seconds before answering.

“I think you’re one tough son of a bitch - pardon the expression for I meant absolutely no offense to the memory of your beloved Mother, Queen Frigga – even if you look like a marshmallow on a burning stick nowadays.”

“That has got to be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Valkyrie.”

“That is really pathetic. I feel so sorry for you.” Valkyrie smirked. “I’ll try harder, next time.”

Loki laughed, but his laughter was cut short as he abruptly recoiled in his seat, hand suddenly on his stomach. “ _Damn_.”

Valkyrie was by his side instantly. “Breathe, Lackey.”

She looked down; he must have not realised it but in his distress, he had grabbed onto her hand and was clutching it like a lifeline. She covered it with her other hand and without thinking, began looking for the pressure points at his bony wrist and suddenly ice-cold palm; once she had found them, she kneaded them gently.

After a tense few minutes, the episode passed and the lines in between his eyes relaxed.

He exhaled a long, icy breath. “At ease, Captain.”

Valkyrie found that she finally could breathe again too.

“Would you like to see her?”

Without hesitation she nodded.

He took her hand still curled loosely around his wrist and placed it palm down against his lower stomach. Despite having already entered his tenth week, it was still as flat as a washboard and Valkyrie would not have thought him pregnant but for the instant warm sensation of magic and seiðr she could feel pulsating under her skin.

She concentrated, and her eyes brightened as she marveled, “She is a fighter.”

“Now do you see why I cannot let her go?” Loki asked gently.

She nodded tersely. Valkyrie called upon her own spiritual energy and hummed the words of her binding oath, offering it up to the Norns as she once had done years ago with Prince Stian.

“I will protect her with my life.”

Loki watched her eyes gleam silver and gold, and he breathed in deeply as something stirred deep within him in response. “She accepts.”

Valkyrie smiled a genuine smile. They had come a long way from their brawling days back on Sakaar, that was for damn sure. “I can’t wait till we can stab each other again, Lackey.”

“I have missed sparring with you too.” After a beat, a wince crossed his tight features once more. “But let us come away, Captain. I am afraid I must return to my chambers to rest.”

She must have looked stricken for as she offered her hand for him to take, he patted her vambraced arm gently.

“Don’t look so glum, Val. I’m not dying today,” he said placatingly, before muttering under his breath. “Not before I get Stephen to fix my face.”

She sniffed, furious. “It’s just allergies, stupid.”

________________________

Valkyrie closed the door to the Prince’s apartments behind her quietly.

“Lady Val, why is Pappa sleeping all the time now?”

“Little Prince, your Pappa needs as much rest as he can get.” She went down on one knee, bracing her arm across it as she studied her royal charge, weighing her words carefully.

“He is trying to give you a little sister and he wants to make sure she grows up healthy, and strong –” she smiled as his hazel eyes twinkled, “and clever like yourself.”

“Will my sister like horses, like me?”

“She might.”

“Can she do magic too like Daddy, Pappa and I?”

“I don’t see why not.” She reached up to tuck a stray lock of glossy black hair behind his ear. It was getting longer. “You can teach her, can’t you?”

He nodded his head excitedly and his hair fell across the front of his face again.

She made a face. “You need a haircut, my Prince.”

“I don’t want a haircut.”

“Then what do you want then?” She rose to her full height. “Wanna go see to your horses? Or we could do some colouring, how about that?”

Stian went quiet. “Colouring please, Lady Val.” He took her hand, and gestured for her to open the door again, “The stables are too far away. I want to stay with Pappa. I want to keep him and my sister company.”

She stared at him. Finally,

“Okay, my sweet Little Prince.” She blinked away the dust for what seemed to be the tenth time today. Stupid fucking allergies. “Come, let us colour to your heart’s content. What shall we draw?”

“Horses!”

She rolled her eyes. “Why do I even bother asking.”

___________________________

“Pass me the Book of Caravaggio, the third one from the top. I think I’ve read something about magical catalysts in there some time ago.”

Wong handed him the requested item through the portal. The fellow Master was sitting in his library at Kamar-Taj, deep in research. The portal-conferencing had been his idea, since he knew Stephen could not bring himself to leave Asgard.

“I have gone through it in passing and the catalyst we need to cut Thor’s seiðr retraining time by any significant measure can only be found on some planet called Nidavellir, wherever that is.”

It sounded vaguely familiar. “Think that’s the birthplace of his hammer and his axe…”

“Meaning it’s not somewhere we can utilize my air miles to get us free tickets.” Wong shrugged. “But I could be wrong, you can check again. I’ll try to look up conduits, if we could find a way to convert foreign magic into something both Loki _and_ the baby could tolerate, that would be so freaking awesome.”

Long minutes passed before Stephen could even bring himself to put his confession into words.

Wakanda may be able to help, it may not.

But he had in his possession the one thing he knew that could.

“Wong…”

His friend grunted in response, not looking up from the scroll he was perusing on mystical conduits.

“Wong.”

Wong looked up.

“The Eye is calling to me.”

A stillness settled over the air like fog.

“Stephen, you are not seriously considering using the Eye of Agamotto to reverse what happened, are you?” Wong turned around in his chair, and faced him through the open portal. His jowls worked as he tried to form words he knew would hurt both of them greatly but alas, they needed to be said –

“The price is too great, and I live with it every day.”

“I brought you back and I paid for it with Mordo’s life?” Stephen snapped. “Is that what you’re implying?”

Wong stared at him with a mixed expression of sadness, guilt and most infuriating of all, _sympathy_.

“What, I should trade my daughter’s life, in exchange for all the other lives Loki saved so as to not upset the balance of the universe? My daughter who is sucking the life out of my husband as we speak is not worth the hundreds of lives saved on that day that would not have been in danger had I been here as I should have?”

Wong looked aghast. “Strange, you need to center yourself. Right now.”

Stephen buried his face in his shaking hands. “You are right, Wong. I’m sorry.”

He swiveled in his chair to face his friend. “And you misunderstood me. I do not intend to use the Time Stone to reverse the accident. All I am asking is one day, back to the time when old Asgard still stands so I could bring Loki there to recharge his batteries, and then come back.”

“And you misunderstood _me_. We have been here before, Strange. You held back, and we saved both your husband and your son, without relying on any relics or infinity stones, remember? All I’m saying is we have to find another way, just like we did the last time. In fact, the answer might be staring right in front of our eyes, we just cannot see it yet.”

“I see it, Wong.” Stephen whispered. “Just one day back in time. No harm done.”

“No harm done,” he lied to himself again.

Wong was silent for enough length of time that it was filling Stephen with the first glimmers of hope -

“You are not asking me for permission, my friend.” Wong shook his head, almost apologetically. “You are asking yourself.”

And the hope died like a flame extinguished in the dead cold of winter.

“You are the Sorcerer Supreme. There is a reason why you were chosen,” Wong said. The uncharacteristic gentleness of his voice was not something Stephen expected. “I have always seen what it is in you that made you the right choice for the job. The question is, do you?”

 _Right choice for the job._ Wong made it sound so inconsequential as if he was talking about the trials and tribulations of being a _typist_.

Stephen’s fingers curled into a fist.

“You can only be as righteous as the incline of your slope, and you and I both know this is one hell of a slippery one.”

He could not speak anymore.

Stephen waved a hand and he let the portal close without even exchanging goodbyes.

His head turned toward the pale, emaciated figure lying on their bed.

Righteous.

_Would being righteous mean a damn thing in a world without you?_

Stephen sat on the bed, careful not to jostle it unnecessarily. Despite having imbibed a sleeping draught fortified by the Order of the Masters of the Mystic Arts’ most potent sedating spell, Loki’s forehead still crinkled every once in a while.

Even in sleep he could no longer escape the pain.

Stephen’s eyes fell onto the steady rise and fall of Loki’s abdomen as he took in breath after breath.

The gauntness was eating away at him and the very slight bulge in between the sharp jut of his hipbones only emphasized the concavity of Loki’s stomach, and it filled Stephen’s heart with such despair he could feel tears filling his eyes.

Loki should be thriving.

Stephen stroked his eyebrow, the tension headache sharp and throbbing.

His hand unthinkingly reached out to touch.

He caressed the swell of Loki’s belly. At twelve weeks, their little girl was now fully-formed. Small, but perfect.

_It would be so easy._

The spell was just on the tip of his tongue.

His princess. Their poor little princess.

His fingers curled around the soft flesh of Loki’s stomach.

Was he really going to rob Loki of the chance to say goodbye to their daughter?

“Daddy.”

Stephen’s hand jerked away from Loki’s belly as if scorched; it might as well be for how his face burned with the sudden rush of blood to his face –

“Stian.” He fought to rein in the racing of his heart. “What are you doing out of bed?”

The door stood ajar and Stephen squinted at the outline of his son, clad in his pyjamas, black hair tousled yet eyes as alert as a deer’s.

“Can’t sleep?”

Stian nodded. He wrung his little hands and Stephen’s heart twisted at how similar the gesture was to Loki’s own nervous tic.

“Can I lie down with Pappa for a while?”

His first thought was an immediate, apologetic ‘No’, but the past week Loki had been so ill what little time he had spent with their son was imbued with either heady blurs of heavily-medicated numbness or in a paralysing haze of pain.

“I promise I’ll be quiet.”

“Of course, buddy.” Stephen held out an arm to give his son a hug and kissed him on the temple, ruffling his glossy hair. “Go on, then. I’ll watch over you.”

Stian climbed onto the bed but instead of lying down next to Loki, he sat cross-legged at his sleeping father’s waist.

A small hand reached out to slide Loki’s tunic up, revealing his bare abdomen.

“Stian, what are you doi-”

“Shh, Daddy.”

Stian put his palm flat on Loki’s belly, and blue flames began to seep from between his little fingers.

Stephen propelled himself out of the chair so fast it toppled onto its side with a crash, but Loki did not even so much as flinch. He could feel the rise in energy, in disproportion to the plummeting temperature in the room – it was magic. Stian’s magic. He would know the signature of his son’s seiðr anywhere.

But Stian was still too small, barely five years old, how could he sustain the amount of energy required to -

“Take my hand, Daddy.”

There. Stephen had his answer.

“You’re the conduit.”

And as father and son, their hands touched, and it was as if he had been struck by lightning, it was _electric_. Stephen’s magic swirled furiously in his gut, his chest, oh his chest, burning and bright and golden, as it coalesced into one large dam of chaotic, mystical energy that in a matter of heartbeats, coursed down his arm and simply flowed freely unhindered into the pulling force Stian was exerting through their fingers –

And after what felt like eternity, the sucking force receded, before it finally disappeared entirely.

Stephen stared at the back of his son’s head. He wanted so badly to leap forward, to see the expression on his sweet baby face, but he could not for the life of him, _move_.

“How did you know to do that?” Stephen’s heart pounded.

Stian turned his head around. His snow-white skin was unusually flushed, his hazel eyes wide and innocent. “I just fixed the colours, Daddy.”

“Colours?” Stephen echoed numbly.

A little crinkle creased Stian’s forehead. “Pappa’s green. He has to be green.”

“So what colour has he been?”

“He was too yellow. He cannot be yellow.” His little nose wrinkled. “You're yellow, Daddy.”

A chill ran down his spine.

“And you’re…” His throat was suddenly much too dry, his tongue too thick for words.

Stian showed his fingers where cerulean wisps of seiðr sparked to life, dancing like the flickering ends of a candle, “Blue is my favouritest colour in the world!”

“Blue and yellow makes green, Daddy,” he said enthusiastically. “Lady Val taught me the other day.”

_Right in front of your eyes._

“Look!” Stian nuzzled his face in the crook of Loki’s neck, wrapping his small arms around his sleeping form in delight, “Pappa’s green again!”

“My boy.” Stephen’s eyes welled. He lunged and grabbed his son and hugged him fiercely, showering his face, his head, his little hands with kisses. “My beautiful, magical boy!”

Stian squealed, flailing his arms, he was so ticklish too – and Stephen buried his face in his son’s hair, breathing in the scent. “Oh bless, Stian. My darling boy.”

Through teary eyes, Stephen pulled his son into his lap and studied his husband’s sleeping profile, and true enough, the pallor had left his cheeks, and the telltale beginning of a flush of colour was beginning to return; he fingered where the perpetual creases of pain next to Loki’s eyes had been and he marveled at the absence of them. And he could sense it, Loki’s seiðr, stirring in his chest, thrumming with vitality and vigor.

Stephen laid his hand gently on Loki’s belly and let his magic flow, looking for his daughter…and there she was, stirring underneath his palm, her seiðr the unique mix of his own magic and Loki’s. To think that he very nearly took her life…a lump rose in his throat.

_Will you ever forgive me, my darling?_

He bent to kiss Loki’s stomach. “I’m so sorry, honey. I shouldn’t have given up on you.”

“Are you kissing my sister goodnight, Daddy?” Stian asked in wonder. His eyes were beginning to droop.

“Yes, yes, I am,” Stephen answered through an unshed veil of tears. “Come, you’ve done so well. I am so proud of you.” He nuzzled Stian’s temple. “You ready to go back to bed now?”

Stian rubbed his eyes and stubbornly shook his head. He was out like a light by the time Stephen carried him to his room and laid him on his bed.

________________________________

Stephen must have not slept more than an hour, for when he awoke his arm was still wrapped around Loki’s waist.

But something was poking his face.

Stephen opened his eyes only to nearly have them jabbed by someone’s finger. He reared back in confusion, remnant of sleep stubbornly clinging to his muddled brain – “Loki!”

He reached up and caught the offending hand.

Loki’s green eyes were the only thing bright enough to penetrate the pitch darkness of the room.

“Stephen.”

Stephen’s throat was too dry to speak. His lips worked but the words were simply not coming.

Loki leaned in closer, and through the balmy darkness, Stephen could make out the familiar outline of his face; he reached up a shaky hand to trace the angular lines of his chin, his cheek, the dimple of his temple –

“Loki…” he breathed out. He still could not believe it. “Is this a dream?”

Loki’s eyes softened. “I’m afraid it’s not, gentle husband.” He wiggled closer and now his body was pressing against Stephen, chest to chest, thigh to thigh.

“I know it’s the middle of the night,” Loki sounded apologetic, “But I am terribly, terribly hungry.”

“Could you please make me one those Egg Benedict things I like?” Loki begged. “Except for the spinach, you always make it too soggy it’s disgusting –”

Stephen seized his lips and kissed him deep and hard.

“Oh, Loki…” he laughed, and laughed till tears streamed down his face. Despite Loki’s protest, “But my Egg Ben –”

Stephen shut him up with another soft but desperate kiss. “Hush. I’ll make you whatever you want. Just –”

“ _Hush_.”


	5. May The Clouds Hide Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen takes Loki on a long-overdue, albeit unusual honeymoon. And as honeymooners often do, one tries to die on the other.

“Let’s do things the Midgardian way for once, shall we?”

“And do things a hundred times slower. Nice.”

“What’s the hurry. You keep telling me you will live forever, surely you’ve got time to spare.”

“But you’re not even a lay mortal anymore. Didn’t you tell me it took you five seconds to reach the top of the Everest once?”

“Ye-ahh. About that. Haha.” Stephen laughed uneasily. “The Ancient One had quite the sense of humour. You would have gotten along so well, had you two met.”

Loki studied him with an indecipherable expression on his face, but the look that suspiciously hinted at his intention to say something regarding the matter passed as quickly as it came on.

“Your Pick-a-Portal service needed an entry visa that you forgot to apply for or something?”

“Goodness. You’re more a New Yorker than me now.” Stephen sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Loki. Has it ever occurred to you that perhaps I simply wanted to spend time with you? In a place like this where time moves so slowly it seems to move not at all…I can see myself spending eternity here enjoying the privilege of thy company.”

“You are acting stranger than usual, Strange.” Loki looked at him suspiciously. “You want something from me. Not even your awful attempt at Shakespearean wooing can hide it.”

Stephen turned sideways, an arm bent at the elbow and propped on the back of the seat. He studied Loki’s profile in naked wonderment as he tried to predict Loki’s reaction to his next words. “I never did take you on a honeymoon, did I?”

“A honeymoon.” On Loki’s tongue, the word sounded foreign the way he said it.

“Surely you know what that is?”

For a second there Stephen thought Loki was going to scoff at him for being inane or roll his eyes at his hopeless romanticism, but to his credit, Loki did neither of those things.

Instead, Loki slowly sat down next to him, the cushion dipping slightly as he shifted his weight so he leaned more or less into the Sorcerer Supreme, swinging his long legs off the floor and resting them onto the couch, bent at the knees so they would not hang off the edge.

“Our firstborn son is near five, and now we are expecting our second child. Do be assured that I do not expect to be taken on one at this juncture, Stephen.”

Stephen blinked. “I’m fairly sure you meant to comfort me with that caveat in our marriage but it somehow makes my shortcomings as your husband even more glaring.”

Loki snorted in distaste. “What’s gotten into you lately?”

He straightened up, an indignant look on his face, “Did Thor say something? Did I say something that somehow made you feel inadequate in any way? Because I for one do not remember having done any complaining lately.”

“That’s the thing. I wish you would,” Stephen said lightly, “Complain more, I mean.”

“Okay, Strange. I’ll bite, as you Midgardians say. For starters, what are we doing on a barge, in the middle of an icy loch of all places?”

“It is not a barge, it is a catamaran. And I would have driven but –” Stephen wriggled his hands, “You were the one who said you wanted to go up into the Scottish Highlands.”

“Of course. Which means munros and glens and bens.” Loki swiftly got to his feet. “No one said anything about sailing.”

“At least I had the good sense to charter a private boat?” Stephen’s attempt at endearing Loki to his romantic gestures fell flat on his face as Loki only turned his nose upward with an askance look, before he pushed open the door that led to the bridge.

Stephen followed him toward the bow of the boat. He listed starboard side when it rocked amidst the tail waves of a passing speedboat but Loki remained standing as steady as a pole, his hair gently lifting off his shoulders, his long black coat flapping in the breeze.

Stephen reached up to flip the lapels so they covered the sides of Loki’s neck. “Inside is warmer,” he groused.

“You know the cold doesn’t bother me.” Loki lifted his face, basking in the sunlight peeking shyly from behind the clouds. The Scottish sun had always been kind to him, unchanged over the centuries. He murmured, “This is nice.”

Stephen slid his hands into Loki’s coat pockets. He found Loki’s hands and gave them a squeeze. He dug in deeper until he found what he was looking for.

Hugging Loki from behind, he cradled through the inner silk lining of his coat pockets the sides of Loki’s baby bump, still largely hidden from view against his tall, thin frame, but very much obvious to the touch if one knew where to look, and no one but Loki knew better than Stephen.

Loki appreciated his discretion and rewarded him by tilting his head to give Stephen a quick peck on the cheek.

“Why here, of all places?” Strange pressed his cheek against the side of Loki’s face, watching the waves cut across the clear green waters. “Why this island, specifically?”

“Oh, but this is a place of magic, Stephen.” Rarely had he ever seen Loki look as excited, his eyes shining as he spoke, “Old magic.”

“As much as I am enjoying escorting you on your pilgrimage, Loki, will you reassure me that we will be back in Asgard by tomorrow?”

Stephen linked his arms across the front of Loki’s body, stroking a palm lightly over the soft swell of Loki’s stomach. “You are due for a recharge. Stian wouldn’t stop bugging me about it. He’s _obsessed_ with colouring you right.”

“I am well, husband.” Loki’s fingers lightly grazed the back of Stephen’s hand. “I will be well, after today.”

Stephen waited patiently for him to explain further. Loki did not, only offering, “Spoilers, darling.”

“Cryptic.” Stephen snorted, not unfondly.

“The Isle of Skye is perhaps as old as Asgard itself, Stephen.” He breathed in deeply. “Not the land, no, but its spirit, its essence. The Macleods of Gesto, the oldest family on this island, traced their descent back unbroken to Harold the Black, the Jarl of Iceland, and it is said, from him, to the great Odin Allfather himself.”

Loki looked out into the waters, his eyes sweeping over the rows of mountain looming in front and around them.

“The magic is strong here. Though our worshippers are long gone, for every number of times our names were spoken and our presence summoned, each invocation left a residue that still lingers in the air, the land, the waters – energy that cannot be destroyed.” Loki took another deep breath. “Even after centuries.”

Stephen released his hold around his husband and leaned against the railing, regarding him in open curiosity, “Scotland used to worship you guys? That’s news to me.”

“Old news, old darling.” Loki pointed a long, tapered finger into the distance. “Beyond that mountain is the township of Kyleakin, or Haco’s Strait, where King Haco of Norway anchored with his fleet in the thirteenth century. The Norsemen held parts of the Scottish mainland and the Isles then, but after his last battle ended in defeat, he and what remained of his fleet fled to the Wester Fjord where Haco, ill, old and heartbroken lay abed, awaiting to die.”

Loki’s voice trailed to a whisper at his last words, and he sounded so forlorn Stephen could not help but pursue it, almost accusingly as if he did not want to believe, but believed nonetheless. “You sound like you knew him, like you were there.”

“On his deathbed, he had his chaplain read him old Viking sagas, and he wept as his time drew near and he could not say our names anymore.” If Stephen needed any more convincing that Loki was as old as he said he was, the evidence was all in his haunted, green eyes. “Can you imagine that kind of devotion, Strange?”

“I don’t need to. I can still see it now.” Stephen’s nose wrinkled in chagrin. “The Valkyrie? She was practically stomping her feet when you said she could not come with you.”

“Yes…but not for the reason you imagined.”

“Really? You two are practically joined at the hip now.”

“Jealousy ruins your looks, Stephen. Makes you look unhinged.”

Loki walked a few steps, his hand dancing lightly along the railing, much like a compass scrying for direction. He stopped short, and pointed in another direction. “Deep inland you would find the Maidens of Loch Bracadale, the three great rocks rising out of the sea so-called for their appearance akin to three mermaids, a mother and her daughters combing their hair…”

Loki’s eyes took on a faraway look. “They bore witness to the last time the Valkyries ever appeared to man.”

Stephen’s interest was piqued even more now.

“Before a battle, it was their custom to weave the web of death, before choosing the best and the bravest of the slain to lead them to the great halls of Valhalla, until Odin shall summon them to his side for the last and greatest battle of all – ”

“It was the eve of the Battle of Clontarff in 1014 when a farmer searching for his strayed animal on the cliff top was startled to see his world suddenly darkened…"

Loki lifted his face to the sky. "And he looked up to see twelve Valkyries hovering on their wings – they were weaving their dreadful web of death, its loom of lances, and the weights of the loom men’s heads."

And like in a dream, suddenly Loki began to sing, his voice clear and crisp.

Horror covers all the heath

Clouds of carnage block the sun;

Sisters, weave the web of death,

Sisters, cease, the work is done

 

It was a song, short and melancholic, and perfectly sung.

Stephen could not take his eyes off his raven-haired prince, so awed was he, for this was a side of Loki he knew had to exist but never had the privilege to see...until now.

“Once the song ceased, the Valkyries tore the web into two pieces, flying one half to the north, one half to the south. And they were never seen again in Skye.”

“Why did they leave?”

“Your scholars blamed the Scottish people’s conversion to Christianity.” Loki’s smile was empty, humorless. “I blame Hela. She did slaughter them.”

“Slaughtered them all but one.” Loki sighed in what sounded like regret. Then his nose crinkled. “Good thing too, it would have been such a drag trying to find a babysitter for Stian.”

_____________________________

 

“It is a long way up, Loki.” Stephen did not even bother hiding his apprehension.

Loki only looked at him coolly. “You were the one who insisted on doing things the Midgardian way. It would be double standard to subject me to a grueling boat ride but deny me an invigorating hike up. You worry too much.”

“But that looks very steep.”

“I will manage.” Just as soon as the skipper steered the boat away out of sight around the bay, Loki’s outer long coat disappeared, revealing in its place his usual green and black Asgardian leathers.

“This sacred land will never let me fall.”

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” Stephen muttered. It was a rhetorical question at best for Loki began to climb, paying him no heed.

It was a steep climb with a snow-topped mountain of about 3500 feet looming over them, beyond which was their destination, the Lake Coruisk. Moss-covered black rocks offered precarious purchase for their feet, yet Loki manoeuvered his way effortlessly up and around the sides of the mountain, his back tall and straight as if he was walking on the level.

It would have been a marvel to watch were Stephen not himself struggling simply to keep up; a few times already he had lingered too long gauging his next step, the next foothold only to find Loki already out of his sight.

“Really – ” Stephen huffed, “This is hardly, the most pleasant idea – ” and puffed “- of a honeymoon!”

Not surprisingly, Loki heard him, despite being a good fifty yards away, “It’s a health and wellness spa more than anything, darling. Do keep up.”

“Witch,” Stephen muttered under his breath.

“I heard that!”

 _Oops_. He should play the part of a concerned husband, caring for his pregnant spouse, quickly – “At least take The Cloak!”

Loki waved a derisive hand.

Then his steps began to falter, and Loki came to a complete stop within seconds.

Stephen looked up in alarm, but refrained from speaking. The pause in walking pace finally allowed him to catch up and when Stephen drew closer, he was relieved to see no distress on Loki’s usually pale face now flushed with bitter cold, and only the tiniest hint of uncertainty.

He slowly turned his head to the right to the shallow pass going around the mountain where in the distance, a shallow stream ran over the tidiest row of stepping stones Stephen had ever seen in the wilderness.

Loki then looked to his left up at the winding, treacherous path around the other side of the mountain.

Both ways led to their destination, yet the latter looked like one only manageable by mountain goats. And Stephen had an uneasy feeling just which of the two Loki would choose –

“This way.” Loki began walking to the left.

“Loki…”

“Trust her.”

“Who are you talking about – ” And Stephen saw her.

A very tall, thin woman stood on a jutting rock formation about twenty feet above them, looking down on them, her long black hair falling to her feet. Had her white, misty robe moved in the icy gale blowing around them Stephen would have thought her human.

“Don’t look at the Gruagach too long,” Loki murmured. “Just say your thanks, and _move_.”

_“Gruagach?”_

_“Protector spirit of the land, if you prefer.”_

_“Wouldn’t crossing the stream be safer?”_

_“She points me a path, I follow it.”_

Loki turned his head slightly sideways, his eye softening at the worry in his husband’s eyes.

_“She will protect me.”_

The wisps of a whisper blew with the wind, in a language Stephen had never heard before; it was a song, soft, lilting, haunting, sung in a woman’s voice long dead and gone.

Loki smiled wistfully in the direction of the rock formation on which the mysterious woman was no longer standing. His lips moved soundlessly, and it was as if the wind carried his words…despite not knowing what it was Loki had said, Stephen knew he was thanking her for granting them safe passage, he could feel it in the subtle shift in the air.

They walked for what must have been an hour, with Loki leading the way, Stephen not more than a step behind. Every so often Loki would stop to rest but for a few seconds, growing noticeably tired but still he persevered.

More than once Stephen offered to teleport them, and just as many times Loki flat-out refused. “We are in the circle now, Stephen. When we are this close, there are no shortcuts.”

When Loki was in one of his cryptic moods, it was best to stand back and observe and just be present.

However, as nonparticipatory as he would have liked to be, he could not very well ignore the fact that his husband had been refusing food and drink all day and was now trying to break the world record for the fastest pregnant Norse god to ever climb a mountain.

“Loki, perhaps a drink of water –" he did not get very far for Loki suddenly halted, his hand raised in the air.

“We’re here.”

Stephen joined him where he stood on a boulder and when he looked down, he instantly found himself at a loss for words.

Loch Coruisk was a lake hidden deep within the Bens, surrounded on all sides by mountains - their majestic silhouettes an ominous black against the blue of the clouds overhead, their mirror images reflected on the clear aquamarine waters in rippling daubs of slate grey, honeycomb yellow and moss green.

It was not only its natural magnificence that rendered Stephen speechless; it was the pull of energy that enveloped the entire area in an almost visible corona of magic.

Ancient magic.

It was unlike any magic he had ever encountered, yet strangely familiar.

Loki was enthralled. His face showed an exhilaration Stephen had not seen in a long time, certainly not since he had been ill.

But Loki was not looking at the lake. His hands felt along the walls of the boulder rock next to him as if looking for something. The moment Stephen saw it with his wary eyes, Loki found it with his hand, and true enough, his palm fit the depression imprinted on the million-years-old volcanic rock perfectly.

The words Loki chanted were in a strange tongue, rough and convoluted yet melodious; despite not knowing the language, the signature of the spell Stephen readily recognised as a summoning one.

The hairs on the back of his neck started to rise, and the air stirred at the sudden presence of another.

“Fáilte gu Loch Coruisk, Loki mo rìgh.” 

 _Welcome, Loki my King._

A small, very dark presumably male, dwarf-sized figure suddenly stood in front of them, having appeared out of nowhere.

He was child-sized, but there was nothing childlike about him. Dressed in a faded green tunic that reached his knees and belted at the waist with water reed fibres, he wore a peculiar hat that covered his head fully, leaving one to wonder at the shape of his head and hair.

“That’s...an Oompa-Loompa.” A murderous-looking, teeth-gnashing Oompa Loompa. On a remote hill, on a remote island, in the remotest part of new Britannia. “Good Lord, they _are_ real.” 

“For Norns’ sake, Stephen,” Loki hissed through his gritted teeth. “Give me your sling ring.” 

“Why?” Stephen asked sharply, his eyes still trained on the small, dark man in front of him. He did not like the idea of battling such a gruesome creature but to protect Loki, he would do anything. 

“You can give me your sling ring and stay to watch, or you can keep it and leave,” Loki said flatly. A slight pause, “It is made of iron, yes?” 

Stephen nodded suspiciously. 

“Faeries fear iron, Stephen.” Loki held out a palm expectantly. “I will return it to you once we are done here.” 

Oh. Faeries. Of course.  

He could not stop staring as he handed his sling ring to Loki. Why did it not surprise Stephen that they looked nothing like the faeries in children’s storybooks? The legends spoke nothing of Loki’s stark, savage beauty and yet there he was and not a creature could compare to Loki’s exquisite countenance, whatever form he took. 

But he digressed. The faerie was visibly relieved now that the sling ring was safely sequestered in one of Loki’s magic pockets. The little man spoke furtively in that foreign tongue Stephen had only just realised was Gaelic and Loki answered in rapid succession. 

 _“Stephen.”_  

Stephen finally tore his eyes away from the creature only to realise that Loki had changed out of his Asgardian leathers and into a shapeless shift frock in pure white, hooded and cinched at the waist with a similar-looking ancient rope for a belt.  

 _“If the waters turn green and I do not reappear, do come in after me_.” 

Stephen’s eyes narrowed.  

 _"What manner of risks are you putting yourself into now, Loki?”_

Loki being Loki, answered not what he did not wish to answer. 

 _“But not before. Never before. I cannot afford to wait for the next turn of the summer solstice to do this again should I fail, we are too close to the autumn equinox as it is.”_  

Stephen felt the first waves of real fear stir in his chest. He reached out to grip Loki’s waist. _No_. 

Whatever Loki intended to do, there was no doubt it was dangerous as hell. He could tell by the way Loki was avoiding his eyes. 

“Chin up, darling.” Loki squeezed his arms. “I need to do this.” 

The resolution in Loki’s eyes dared no contestation. “And I need you to let me do this.”  

Stephen’s hand left Loki’s hip to search for his daughter. Despite his twenty weeks into the pregnancy, the robe hid Loki’s figure but the thrum of magic stirring underneath his palm as he gently caressed Loki’s belly soothed him somewhat. “Be careful, both of you.” 

Loki threw him one last uneasy smile before turning to follow the mythical gnomelike creature down the rocky slope toward the bank of the placid lake. Stephen followed suit, his uneasiness growing by the second as he watched Loki sink to his knees about ten feet away from where the water lapped gently at the shore.  

The faerie waved a hand, drawing figures in the air, and stone-like projections the size of witches’ hats erupted from the earth, encircling Loki who had begun tracing runes on the ground with his fingers. Stephen recognised some of the alphabets, and it struck him now why the magic felt so familiar. 

It was Celtic magic.  

A thrill ran down his spine at the thought of potentially witnessing ancient Druid magic in practice. And all of a sudden he found himself missing her - the Ancient One.

But before he could brood further, the sudden rise in atmospheric energy alerted him to the present.

Blue seiðr rolled off Loki in waves, enveloping his white robe in an unearthly luminousity, but despite its beauty, Stephen knew it was an anomaly for the blue was intermingled with a golden yellow, the colour of his own intrinsic magic.  

Suddenly Stephen understood why Loki needed to come here.

It was not so much a pilgrimage as a quest for a cure; the temporary cure for his illness was only permanent so long as Stephen and Stian were around to regenerate his seiðr, but it did not change the fact that it was borrowed seiðr.  

And Loki could not abide it. 

Having duly completed his task, the faerie gave Loki a satisfied look and bowed before him reverently before tipping his hat at Stephen and smirking a grotesque smile before he shimmered out of existence in the blink of an eye.  

His eyes closed, with a face as pale as the robe he wore, Loki placed both hands on the ground and the runes he had traced on the sand took on a luminous green glow, much like the colour of Loki’s own seiðr. He chanted words to an ancient spell in an ancient tongue, his voice low and barely audible.  

When he opened his eyes again, they were not his own. Golden and iridescent, they stared ahead out over the loch.

Loki slowly rose to stand.  He stepped out of the circle of stones, his feet white and bare, and much like a sleepwalker, walked straight into the ice-cold water, his white robe billowing around him. 

Stephen fought the urge to leap in after him and pull him back, but the sorcerer in him knew he should not and could not intervene. The spirits of the earth currently inhabiting Loki’s body and lending him the strength he needed to overcome the upcoming trial would not appreciate such interruptions.  

He trusted Loki, and now was the time to show it.  

So, the Sorcerer Supreme stood at the edge of the water and waited. He watched as Loki’s head completely disappeared under the water, the blue and yellow seiðr swirling in a dizzying whirlpool of energy trailing from where Loki entered the water to his last sighted position before he was swallowed into the fathomless depth of the loch.  

A minute passed. And another. Then another.  

True fear started to grip Stephen’s chest like a vise.  

How long could Loki hold his breath under water? Stephen’s heart pounded madly against his ribcage. He started to take his clothes off with hands that shook more than usual. 

How long did the Mad Titan take to strangle Loki till he suffocated the last time? 

Humans had five minutes tops before irreversible brain damage set in.  

And the waters were still fricking _yellow_.   

 _Fuck, Loki._  

Stephen sneaked a glance at the runes on the ground; they were still glowing, green and ominous, but were they fainter now? Some of the runes already had the fires burned out of them altogether.  

When Stephen turned around to look out into the water again, his heart leapt to his throat – 

He lunged into the freezing water and threw himself into the swirling vortex of green seiðr, desperately groping the water, scouring its bottom, and he stopped short as his feet came into contact with something.  

Stephen took a deep breath and dived into the water. Within seconds, he had Loki all long-limbed, lifeless and dangling in his arms, and out of the lake.

He laid his husband on the shore and slammed his hands on the sand, raising his Mirror Dimension and shielding them both from view; they may appear to be alone but he knew better than to believe the outer appearance of things; who knew what sort of faeries or sprites or other beings there were out here. 

“Loki!” Stephen knew he was shouting but he did not care. Loki’s lips were blue and no breath stirred his chest. He was as still as marble.   

 _No_. 

On autopilot, Stephen sealed his mouth over the ice-cold lips and began blowing breath after forceful breath, alternating with chest compressions reinforced with all the spells he knew that could potentially help bring him back. “Come _on_ , Loki.” 

He was about to commence the third cycle of CPR when suddenly Loki bucked violently off the ground, and Stephen hurriedly wrestled him onto his left side just in time before he brought up great gouts of lake water, breathing harshly as his thin frame shuddered in as much exertion as the bitter cold.   

Stephen ripped the soggy robes off Loki’s body and conjured thick, heavy blankets which he then used to smother his husband’s shivering frame and dry his scraggly wet hair. He could hear Loki’s teeth chatter against each other. 

“S-Stephen.”  Loki coughed again, bringing up the last of the fluids from his lungs. Stephen laid a hand on his back and let healing spell after healing spell warm his insides, chasing away the lasting effects of near-drowning and prolonged exposure to below-freezing temperatures. It was when at last he stripped himself of his own wet clothes and they huddled in the blankets together that Loki finally stopped shaking.  

“Alright now?” Stephen asked a little anxiously still.  

“I’m alright, Stephen.” Fully alert now, Loki pressed the side of his face onto Stephen’s bare chest, revelling in his warmth and the strength of his reassuring heartbeat.

Loki raised his hand and called upon his seiðr. Green sparked from the ends of his long fingers and he watched, fascinated by the return of his magic after so long. His other hand flew to his belly somewhat fearfully; his daughter stirred inside him in direct response to his inquiring nudges and he sighed in great relief, “I am more than alright.” 

“I can’t _believe_ you,” Stephen seethed. “How could you do this to me again?”  

“I’m sorry, Strange, but I had to.” Loki closed his eyes. He knew Stephen was angry, he could feel it rumbling in his voice, reverberating in his chest. “As our daughter grows, the borrowed powers could only sustain me for so long –” 

“But you only need to take from me!’ Stephen berated. “You don't even need to ask, just take it!” 

“And I am telling you, I _can’t_ ,” Loki said through gritted teeth. “Not without draining you and Stian. You have no idea how much I _need_ , Sorcerer.” 

“I can’t do that to you. I can’t do that to our son.” He closed his eyes again. “But it’s over now. It’s finally over.” 

“What is different now?” Stephen asked, still not understanding.  

“To put it in terms you may better understand, Doctor, what you have kindly been giving me were transfusions, to take the edge off and keep death at bay.” Loki frowned at the memory. “What I needed to stay alive were stem cells, if you like. To reawaken my seiðr, I needed to come to a place where magic was strongest, if it was mine harvested a long time ago like I had done here, then all the better.”  

“Your magic?” Stephen was remembering the handprint, the ancient Celtic magic, and why Loki had insisted to come only on this day and not on any other day…the summer solstice and autumn equinox, the freaky faerie dwarf calling him his King –

The Lughnasadh. _Of course._  

“You are Lugh, the Celtic God," Stephen said flatly. "The God of Craftsman Skills and Arts, Harvest, Oaths and Truth.” 

“Was that what I was called?” Loki’s forehead wrinkled slightly. “It was so long ago, I tend to forget. Too many past lives, you see.” 

Stephen was at a loss; should he laugh? Shout or cry? All of the above, maybe? 

“You _knew_.” If earthbound magic was what Loki needed, New Asgard had _plenty_. “You could have done this back in Norway. You could have healed yourself.” 

Loki did not answer. 

“You knew, and you did not tell me.” Stephen’s voice was raw with emotions. “ _Why?”_  

It was a long time before Loki spoke again, his voice soft yet firm. “I was dying, Stephen.”  

“The sheer amount of seidr I needed to heal would have turned Asgard barren and infertile. No vegetation would grow, no livestock could ever be reared without sickening, even the water itself would be rendered undrinkable.” His head lifted, chin strong and unwavering in his conviction.  

“I would never do that to Asgard.” His steely green eyes met Stephen’s stormy grey ones head-on. “Never.” 

Stephen’s throat dried up in an instant. His hold around Loki wavered slightly.

He looked down at the protective blanket covering the telltale curve of Loki’s belly.

He cradled the side of Loki’s abdomen with one hand gently. Calling out Loki’s concealment of a lie-truth shamed him to the core; his own confession was long overdue. 

“I almost killed our daughter.” _For you._  

“I know,” Loki said quietly. 

Stephen’s eyes smarted. He recognised a truth when he heard it, and Loki was not lying. 

 _Of course_ Loki knew. He always did.  

Despite the turbulent emotions roiling in his gut, he tightened his hold around Loki, for Loki was his anchor, his unbending tether. But one thing Loki was very good at, was reading people. “You are angry.” 

Stephen was quiet for a while.

“At myself, more than anything.” He gazed down, searching Loki’s face openly. “Why aren’t you?” 

Loki slowly released himself from Stephen’s embrace, his lips pursed in thought as he weighed in his next words. “I was in your position once, remember?” 

The blanket still around his shoulders, Loki crouched in front of Stephen, straddling his thighs, slim pale hands braced on Stephen’s hips. “I had to choose between saving you, and saving our son.”  

Loki leaned in closer. “Did you get angry with me then?” 

“No. I didn’t.” Stephen’s eyes softened at the memory. 

“And what did you do instead?” Loki wrapped his arms around Stephen’s neck. The blanket fell away, revealing his porcelain-white shoulders and torso. Desire and lust stirred deep in Stephen’s gut. 

“I asked you to marry me.” Stephen could not stop staring at Loki’s lips.  

Upon seeing the line of his husband’s gaze, Loki relented and leaned forward, initiating the kiss he knew Stephen wanted.  

“I love you, you know,” Stephen breathed out in between kisses. In the majestic background of the highland wilderness he was falling in love with this fantastic creature, this heavensent angel all over again – 

“I know,” Loki murmured, catching Stephen’s lower lip, biting it lightly, coaxing him to kiss him harder - 

Stephen groaned and pressed their foreheads together when they finally broke free.  

He closed his eyes, savouring the moment. “I really do love you.” 

“And I, you, Doctor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, things have been c-razy. Took liberties with well-known legends of Skye and Celtic mythology and Scottish faeries. Ta, and TTYL!


	6. Penny for your thoughts?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets, old and new alike, shake the fragile foundation of Loki and Stephen's relationship.

_New Asgard, Way back when_

 

“Back so soon?”

Stephen looked up to see the Valkyrie perched on the balcony. He palmed his sling ring out of sight and rubbed his palms against the cold.

“Finished up early.”

“Thought you’d surprise the Missus?”

“Do be careful, Lady Valkyrie. He has very good hearing.”

“Oh I’m sure.” Valkyrie smirked. Then her smile turned conspiratorial, almost chiding. “And very good skin when in lady form too.”

Just because he could, Stephen decided to forgo the stairs and simply flew up, deliberately knocking his knee into her shoulder as he landed soundlessly on the upper level corridor. “Oops.”

For some reason the Valkyrie did not so much as bristle; this was the testy nature of their relationship, just like the tide, rocky at times, companionably placid when circumstances called for it to recede.

He chose not to rise to her taunt; he had heard stories by word-of-mouth and of legends alike that the Loki of lore was an able shape-shifter.

He would not fly into a tantrum just because he had not seen Loki in any form other than his Aesir and Jotunn ones. He did not need to. “Lady or not, Loki is for me.”

Valkyrie lifted her bottle to her lips but did not drink from it immediately. “Is he?”

Stephen sighed and his hand fell away from the royal apartment door he shared with Loki. He really did not have time for this, the stink of battle was still clinging to his clothes and hair and he really needed a shower – “You got something to say, say it, my Lady.”

Of course she did. Why else would she loiter around the Prince’s royal quarters when there was no reason for her to.

“Is this simply a watering place to you?” She cocked her head in that infuriatingly challenging way of hers. “Somewhere you can come and go as you please, dropping in at your leisure when you need a pillow to rest your pretty head on, giving the Princes the customary peck on the cheek before you’re off on your way again?”

“Don’t hold back, Valkyrie.”

“Oh, I don’t need to. Technically you are not anybody here. Just someone the King’s brother had an accidental run-in with, really.” She tipped the mouth of her bottle in his general direction, “Now unless you were suddenly overcome with the urge to do the right thing and duly find your status elevated, _Your Highness_ , then maybe, just maybe, I will show you the respect and recognition you clearly yearn.”

“From you? I’ll pass, thank you.”

“Your sling ring doesn’t take that much of finger space, does it?”

“Stay out of my business, Valkyrie.”

“Fine. Loki’s with the baby in the music room. He may or may not want to see you, but feel free to try your luck.”

________________________________

The music room was a misnomer for want of calling a play room by any other name really; the lavishly decorated chamber with its Baroque ceiling and waist-high wainscoting held not a single musical instrument in it, and unapologetically so.

Stephen slipped in without announcing himself and sat on one of the brocaded fauteuils tucked against the corner.

Loki was sitting cross-legged in the center of the room. Stephen could not see his face for he had his back turned toward him, but beyond his shoulder where his hair, bundled up in a tidy ponytail had trailed down past the curve of his neck, Stephen could see his son seated an arm’s length away, mirroring Loki’s lotus position.

Having just turned one year old, Stian’s developmental milestones were astoundingly advanced compared to his human peers, as evidenced by the string of words piercing the silence, crisp and clearly enunciated.

“Daddy.” Stian’s cherubic face brightened. “Daddy.”

“Concentrate, Stian,” Loki murmured. Largely ignoring Stephen, he splayed out a hand in the air, his long fingers reaching out toward those of his son, who then promptly rested his little palm against his.

Flickers of green began to emerge from between their palms, not doing much beyond the occasional slithering up and down Loki’s long fingers in lazy tendrils.

“Just like I’ve shown you, just like we’ve practiced,” Loki reached out to touch the tip of his other index finger against Stian’s pudgy little belly. “Imagine a baby butterfly fluttering in there, it’s getting really, really hot and it needs to get out, you see…”

The privilege of watching Loki teach Stian magic was one Stephen always cherished; rarely would he stumble upon these sessions, he knew how Loki coveted these private times with their son.

“And the only way for it to get some air is to travel up into your chest, down your arm, and out the tips of your fingers.” Loki peered into his little face, “We want to let the butterfly out, don’t we?”

Stian watched Loki’s fingers, enthralled by the green tendrils of magic that had suddenly taken the form of a butterfly, and he squealed in delight as Loki breathed life into it and it fluttered into the air.

Loki’s technique seemed to work for Stian’s little fingers suddenly took on a blue hue at the first awakening of his seidr. Loki’s butterfly flew higher and higher as it worked its way to the skylight above them.

“Look, Daddy!” Stian pointed at the butterfly with his other hand.

“Stian – ” Loki started, beginning to realise his mistake.

A peculiar, tinny, high-pitched whistling sound caught Stephen’s attention; in his excitement, Stian’s fragile hold on his largely-untapped seidr wavered and the telltale blue sparks lasted a split second, too quickly for Stephen could react, before a tongue-like projection of energy suddenly lashed out from between the clasped green and blue palms in a rippling blast of untethered magic.

The cost of the momentary distraction was a three-foot-long scorch mark along the eastward wall where the wainscoting met the large windows, and a deep cut that spanned the entire length of Loki’s right cheekbone, so long it was that Stephen could not see where it ended as it disappeared into the hairline at Loki’s temple.

Without thinking, Stephen hurled out a ball of his own energy to counter the residue, the golden tendrils of magic quickly containing the miasma of unrestrained, raw seidr and swallowing it whole with a sleight of his hand.

Stian began to cry.

Stephen marched across the room, his boots squeaking against the marble tiles as he kneeled down to pick up his son, shushing him and rubbing comforting circles on his back as he hoisted him off the cold, hard floor.

Stephen rapped his knuckles on the door and moments later, Stian’s governess popped her head in. “Your Highness?” She called uncertainly, “I heard a sound…”

“Take him, Yrsa.” Loki neither moved nor turned from his sitting position on the floor. “See to it that he gets a few hours of naptime before the banquet tonight.”

Stephen relinquished Stian into the girl’s awaiting arms, but not before kissing his son’s chubby cheek, still slick with tears, “I’ll see you in a minute, buddy.”

The door closed behind her with a resounding click. The last of Stian’s sobs dialed down in volume the further they walked down the corridor before dying out completely from earshot; in the ensuing silence, the room grew heavy and still as a tomb.

Stephen crouched down in front of his prince and studied the cut critically. He reached out to touch but his fingers were halted in mid-air when a white hand stopped them in their tracks a mere inch away from Loki’s skin.

“How dare you.”

Loki’s face was equally white with fury, the dark trickle of blood a sharp contrast against the stark white of his cheek, much like a trail left after a fresh kill dragged through the snow.

“Loki, I know you said never to interfere –”

“And yet you did.”

“Only because the danger was real, Loki!” Stephen gritted through his teeth, “I know you think Stian is ready but – ”

“Do you think me incapable of protecting myself from my own son?”

Stephen threw his hands exasperatedly in the air. “I was thinking along the lines of keeping the room and all its fixtures intact but if you prefer to look at it that way – ”

“If you mention the Mirror Dimension to me _one_ more time…” Loki hissed, raising a long, tapered finger in warning. He drew his other hand across his cheek as if having only noticed his injury, looked at it in disgust and palmed the front of his tunic.

It was something Loki would never have done. Stephen had been bristling, feeling his temper rising by the second but the ugly sight of blood smearing Loki’s formerly pristine clothes stirred something inside him; something was not right here.

But Stephen’s train of thought died when Loki jumped to his feet and stalked past him, and the monster reared once more. “Oh, so that’s it? You’re just going to walk away?”

Loki whipped his head around, his ponytail finally snapping free from its tie, sending jet-black hair cascading down his shoulders, and a blast of angry seidr physically pushed Stephen backward a few steps. “Who do you think you are?”

Stephen reared back as if Loki had slapped him. Their fights had never been physical, never like this.

Something was wrong. The depth of Loki’s wrath was incongruent with the level of offence Stephen had committed. Well, the level of offence he had committed _today_.

“Who do you think I am?” Stephen countered the dangerous question with one of his own, but unlike Loki’s tone, his was worded gently and more subdued.

To his horror, Loki’s eyes welled but the unintentional display of naked vulnerability lasted a fraction of a second, before Loki shouldered him out of the way and stormed his way over to the door.

“What is going on with you?” Stephen finally snapped. “Did everybody in Asgard wake up on the wrong side of the bed today or what?”

The pale hand wavered over the brass lever handle but never quite pushing it down.

“You have been away, Sorcerer.” Loki stayed his hand and it finally came to rest on the pane of stained-glass on the door. “You are forgiven in thinking that I have slept any sleep to awaken from at all.”

Stephen closed the distance between them with very slow, measured steps. Knowing Loki who always seemed to know what Stephen was going to do, even before Stephen himself sometimes, Loki did not move away; not even when the hesitant hands Stephen reached out came to rest on his hips.

When Loki did not pull away, Stephen welcomed the immense wave of relief that immediately washed over him.

He crushed Loki’s waist and pulled him backward, away from the door. “Whatever wrong I have done, I'm sorry, alright?"

Thrown off-balance, Loki’s feet rocked and he digged his heels, scrambling for purchase against the slick floor. “You have no idea what you're apologising for, do you?”

The arms around his waist held him up, and Stephen’s breath was hot against the skin of his neck. “I have a feeling you will tell me if you want to, and you won’t if you don’t.”

“You slew a dragon,” Loki murmured, sounding mildly impressed. “Arthurian?”

“How can you tell?” Stephen sounded equally impressed.

“I can smell it.” Loki sniffed delicately. “Magic that old _reeks_.”

“Wanna take a shower with me?” Stephen’s hands roamed the lean yet muscular contours of Loki’s chest, belly, exploring southward into the delicious dip between his hipbones, “It’ll be a start – ” he murmured into the back of Loki’s head, “Show you how sorry I am.”

Like a cat, Loki spun on his heels and Stephen found himself facing his Ice Prince now despite never having released his embrace, and he searched the solemn green eyes, the dark shadows under his eyes, the already healing cut on his cheek.

Stephen lifted a hand and scraped away the dried blood, letting the back of his fingers linger momentarily against the ice of Loki’s skin. “Will you tell me what is bothering you?”

Cool fingers wrapped around his wrist and pried it away. For a second, Stephen felt crushed by the sudden avalanche of rejection but alas, it was not so much rejection as Loki making space for their lips to meet, and a thrill caressed Stephen’s spine as he tightened his hold around Loki’s waist once again –

“You stink,” Loki murmured in between kisses, stray locks of raven hair caught in between their lips.

“And you smell wonderful.” Their impasse finally broken, the unanswered questions momentarily forgotten, Stephen shut him up with more kisses, deep and soft alike.

__________________________________

 

The banquet was a lavish affair.

“I thought debutante balls were a thing of the past.” Stephen murmured. Despite the noise and loud chatter ringing through Asgard’s Great Hall, Loki’s keen sense of hearing meant he never had to raise his voice above conversational volume.

“The High Council insisted on it,” Loki answered with a sneer which he hid behind his goblet of water. “Why they think Thor incapable of finding his own mate is beyond me. Even before the Bifrost was destroyed, he had no trouble sweeping women off their feet, some as far as Midgard.”

“Is he still seeing that astrophysicist, what’s her name, Dr Foster?”

“Don’t say that name out loud.” Loki’s gaze settled on a table where a nobleman sat with his family, nodding when he caught the General’s eyes. “It may be old news but it still is a sensitive subject.”

“Oh?”

“Last I heard she is married with children.”

“Loki Odinson, you big gossip.” Stephen propped an elbow on the table and gazed at him. Loki looked especially striking in his Asgardian ceremonial armour with his hair slicked back, the sharp contours of his face somehow made more obvious by the shadows cast by the low-hanging chandeliers.

He gave a princely roll of his eyes. "Hardly. I watch the news sometimes you know. She’s got one of those double-barreled surnames now.” An elegant brow wrinkled. “Is one an automatic feminist just because one decides to keep her last name after marriage?”

“You know, I really have no thought on that.” Stephen rubbed his lower lip thoughtfully. “But yes. I nearly forgot about all this. Good thing the dragon died just in time for me to attend.”

“Must be an age thing.” Loki glanced at him out the corner of one eye.

Stephen returned the sentiment with a smile. “Must be.”

He leaned in closer to whisper in Loki’s ear. “Must be an age thing for Thor too. What is he, sixteen hundred years old now? What is that in human years, thirty? No wonder the old geezers are particularly anxious about finding him a partner.”

“I heard that.” Thor popped his giant head above their huddled heads. “Not all of us are as lucky in love as you, Strange.”

A large hand plopped on Loki’s shoulder. “My brother is one in millions of millions. There is no one quite like him.”

The adoring look in Thor’s eyes was as warm as always but Stephen found it odd how his small smile was nowhere near his usual sunny, gregarious cheeriness.

“That sounds _so_ wrong in so many ways.”

“You don’t agree, darling?” Loki murmured, his voice lilting.

Thor only laughed and sauntered to his seat at the center of the High Table, right next to Loki. With the King of Asgard now in attendance, the rest of Asgardian nobility started pouring in through the heavy golden doors, some with their wives, many with their daughters, all dressed to the nine, all hoping to catch the great King Thor’s attention.

But the atmosphere at the High Table was unusually sombre, and not only was it reflected on everyone’s facial expression, even the dinner spread was sparse. Save for goblets of ice water and baskets of freshly baked rolls, there was hardly anything worthy of a complete supper, let alone a grand dinner.

Food was not the only thing missing; the Valkyrie was nowhere to be seen for that matter.

The Sorcerer Supreme rose from the table. No members of high society on the floor paid him any attention for technically the Valkyrie had been right. He was neither a member of the Royal Family, nor a diplomatic delegate here on any official capacity. He was at most, a guest, and as an esteemed guest of the Crown, he was free to do as he damn well pleased.

And the whole mystery was upsetting him to the point of madness. He was going to get himself some answers, one way or another.

His fingers brushed Loki’s shoulder lightly. “I’m going to check on Stian, if he’s up, I’ll bring him down.”

Loki nodded, his eyes still gazing out into the distance. He squeezed Stephen’s wrist distractedly. “If he isn’t, don’t wake him up. He’s always tired after seidr practice.”

Stephen slipped not into the Royal corridor that led to their private quarters, but into the service corridor. He walked down the winding spiral staircase down into the Great Kitchen, following the wafting smell of roasting meats, carefully feeling his way down the stone walls for the steps were treacherous –

And he heard the distinctive voice of the Valkyrie.

“Make sure the fruits for the Prince are washed thoroughly but kept unpeeled.”

Stephen slipped stealthily into the shadows.

Valkyrie pointed to a bowl of nectarines, apples and pears. “Have you checked them? No blemishes, discolourations, pock marks, injection marks?”

“None, my Lady.” Stephen recognised the young man, dressed in fineries of those in direct employment of the Royal Family. It was Einar, Loki’s trusted, long-standing personal aide. “I have checked them myself.”

Another woman dressed in Healer robes was huddled over what looked like a platter of poached salmon, deep in concentration as she chanted the words of a spell under her breath. Stephen watched unblinkingly as she delicately picked at some of the flesh with a silver spoon and touched it to the tip of her tongue.

At her final nod of approval, Einar picked the platter of fish up in one hand and the bowl of fruits in the other.

“Do try to get the Prince to eat something tonight,” Valkyrie could not help grumping. “He has barely touched anything in two days.”

Einar winced. “I will certainly try my best, my Lady.”

The dryness in Stephen’s throat should have only interfered with his ability to vocalise, but it seemed it was interfering with his thoughts as well for he suddenly found himself at a loss, his mind a blank.

_What the hell is going on?_

________________________________

“Yrsa.”

Stephen did not look up from the crib where his son lay curled in deep slumber.

“Yes, Doctor?”

The protective wards around his son’s nursery had been fortified ten-fold and if he had been a lesser mortal and not Stian’s father, he would have been incinerated in an instant upon forcing entry; Loki’s sorcery was brutal, and that could only mean one thing.

“Did something happen while I was away?”

Stian’s governess did not answer as promptly as Stephen would have liked. The stricken look on her face was telltale enough; she was caught between a rock and a hard place.

“Loki forbade you to speak of it to me?” Her eyes darted away, desperately seeking to look anywhere distant enough but still being respectful.

“You can still either nod or shake your head, yes?” Stephen knew his way around the loopholes around Loki’s decrees well enough by now.

To his satisfaction, she nodded her head, albeit uncertainly.

“Has there been a threat to Prince Loki’s life recently?”

She nodded unhesitatingly.

“By means of poison, I presume?”

The nod took longer to come this time, but it did and Stephen felt his blood turn to ice.

“And Stian? Did something happen to him as well?”

To his utter surprise, Yrsa’s eyes suddenly welled with tears. This time she neither nodded nor shook her head. She turned her body sideways and looked to him for permission, and Stephen gestured for her to proceed, his heart pounding in growing trepidation –

And it skipped a beat.

Yrsa pulled her long hair away and part of her gown to reveal the back of her neck and part of her shoulder. Silvery tracks of what appeared to be scar tissue criss-crossed what little exposed skin she was allowing Stephen to see, and he had a sick feeling the scars extended to the rest of her back. Defensive wounds, from a spell? A sharp instrument? Whatever they were from, they looked recent.

His eyes softened. “Thank you, Yrsa. For protecting our son.”

“It is my duty, Doctor. I will gladly give my life before I would let any harm come to Prince Stian.”

When Stephen slipped back into his chair at the High Table, the procession of debutantes had started, and Thor was nodding his head every so often and throwing smiles left, right and center, but he could tell by just looking that the King of Asgard was miles away.

“You missed out on the first few, they were quite feisty things too.” Loki’s face was impassive, but now that Stephen knew what to look for, he noticed Loki doing that creepy thing with his eyes –

He knew Loki could go for hours without blinking, but the way his piercing green eyes swept across the Great Hall, periodically and systemically skimming the walls, the high ceilings, the arrow slots hidden deep in the walls – Loki was a prey, hoping to catch glimpses of his predator so he could pounce first.

Loki’s plate was untouched.

“You are not eating?” Stephen asked lightly. “Is the food not to your liking?”

Loki’s back stiffened. Stephen could read the sudden clenching of his jaw so many ways and he dared say his deduction would be correct any one way.

“I am not very hungry.” Loki gave him a tight smile. “Besides I did not want to start without you. That would be ill-mannered on my part.”

“You should not have waited on my account.”

Loki held out a hand under the table, daring Stephen to take it.

Stephen wasted no time clasping it between his palms and he suffused the ice-cold fingers with warmth and magic at the same time; he closed his eyes and let his sentient magic run its diagnostics through Loki’s veins.

He did not recognise the make, origin or even the constituents of it (yet) but whatever poison the perpetrator had used was potent and would have killed a human instantly. It was mostly gone from Loki’s system, but the utter lack of appetite was perhaps as much a remnant, lingering side-effect of it, as it was a phobia that could have developed as a consequence.

The spark of Stephen’s healing spell prickled Loki’s palm, awaiting his consent.

“I am fine, Stephen.”

“We will talk about this later.” Stephen brushed him off, a tad more brusquely than he intended. “This is just something to hopefully restore your appetite.”

Loki’s eyes dropped. He nodded and allowed Stephen’s magic in. It burned as it worked its way through his bloodstream, and his breath shuddered.

“I do not know if I can stomach anything here.”

“I will make you something.” Stephen’s voice was still hard. “Or we can go to New York for a bagel or something.”

“I will not run, Strange.”

“Will you tell me what you are running from, Loki?” There was no stopping the bitterness from creeping into his voice. “Or is that a royal secret too?”

Loki abruptly pulled his hand away and jumped to his feet, his heavy chair scraping noisily against the solid wooden platform as he knocked it back in his haste.

“Brother?” A hand came to rest on his elbow. “Are you feeling quite alright?”

His face as white as snow, Loki's hand visibly trembled as it gently prised Thor's fingers away. Einar had stepped out of the shadows, his hands stretched out in alarm as if preparing to catch the Prince at any time should he fall.

“If you’ll excuse me Your Majesty, I just – “ Loki ran two fingers along his neckline, unconsciously tugging at the constricting clasp around his throat, “I am in need of some air.”

“Of course,” Thor assented, his eyes narrowing. Stephen did not escape his suspicious looks.

He stood up. “I will take you.”

“There is no need, Stephen.”

But Stephen was having none of it. He spoke directly to Thor. “I will take him.”

“Of course,” Thor repeated. There was terror in his eyes. “Of course.”

________________________________

“Don’t touch me.”

Passing servants bowed their heads and hurried past.

With a wave of his hand, Stephen lifted a silencing spell around them, cloaking them in a shield of invisibility, for this was a conversation that could not wait, his chest near bursting.

“You owe me answers, Loki.”

“I do not owe you anything.”

“Yes, you do!” Stephen grabbed his elbow and forced him to a stop.

Loki did not wrench his arm out of his grasp.

“You can start by explaining why your food is being tasted for poison,” Stephen suggested kindly. “And how Einar now not only dresses you, but tastes your wine as well.”

Loki heaved a sigh. He raked a hand through his hair, and upon noticing how it trembled, placed it on his hip. “I took ill after dinner one night. People jumped to conclusions that it was an attempt on my life, when it had only been a case of run-of-the-mill food poisoning. Happy?”

“No. No lies, Loki.” Stephen gripped the side of Loki’s face fiercely, “No lies between us.”

“No lies.” Loki whispered. “Truly.”

“Perhaps.” Stephen released his grip, “But there are still secrets.”

Loki’s eyes glistened. “As there should be.”

“Why?” Stephen pressed his weight against Loki, pinning him against a giant marble column. “Have I not shown my worth? Do I not deserve to know all that happens to you, and to our son?”

Loki remained stubbornly mum.

“Why did I need to hear it from the Valkyrie, from Yrsa?”

Stephen’s voice broke. “Do I have to wait until you are dead, only then am I to be told?”

“How should I have told you?” Loki asked quietly. “Do I tell you of all the whispers I hear behind my back of how my life should be forfeit on the basis of my heritage alone? That not only am I heir to the throne of Asgard, which apparently is an insult enough to the monarchy now that it is no longer a secret, Thor has named our son, a half-Jotunn, half-human bastard, the third in line?”

“No man with even a drop of Asgardian blood in him in his right mind would stand for it.” Loki lifted his chin. “Asgardians are a proud race, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Who?” Stephen was reduced to monosyllables, his fury barely contained within an inch of his life.

Loki shook his head numbly. “The poison and the spells were old Asgardian dark magic, that was the only thing the Healers could say.”

“I am taking you and Stian back with me to New York.”

“No.”

“Loki…”

“ _No_.” Loki palmed Stephen’s chest firmly. “Now do you see why I did not tell you?”

“I will not run.” Green eyes flashed as bright as sapphires. “I will not leave Asgard. I will not leave Thor.”

“Thor is not the one in danger here!”

“If you truly think that, Strange, then you have not lived long enough,” Loki said gently, not unlike Stephen’s previous tone, condescending yet infuriatingly kind.

“Someone tries to kill me and Stian.” Loki’s fingers curled around the front of Stephen’s robes. “And suddenly the Council throws a ball and cajoles Thor into begetting himself a queen, and perhaps a pure-blooded heir in due time. It is not just to ensure the purity of the royal bloodline.”

“If I am dead, what is stopping them from murdering Thor too?”

___________________________________

_New Asgard, present time_

 

Stephen dreamed.

It was a dream that he had long since banished into the deep recesses of his mind.

He must be dreaming. There was no other logical explanation.

The auburn head appeared for a split second breaking the surface of the water, before disappearing again underneath the waves.

But there had none been any, was there. No waves for the water was still that day. So still.

How could water so still be so cruel.

And in his dream state, he could even feel it. The cramping pain in his leg – a sympathy pain?

The head reappeared, a frantic hand reaching out for someone, anyone.

But this time, the hair on the head was no longer reddish blond darkened to a brown by water – it was black, as black as the moonless night, as black as the void of empty space.

 _Loki!_ He screamed.

No.

Why did that not sound right?

 _Loki!_ He screamed again, his cramping leg grounding him to the ground, rendering him useless and paralysed.

No. Not Loki.

Loki was alive. He had saved him. He had pulled him out of the still, cruel, icy water.

Hadn’t he?

He had been calling the wrong name.

_Stephen._

He heard her now. Garbled, drowning. Dying.

_Help me._

“Stephen.”

He heard a voice calling him, but he could not for the life of him tell who it was, despite knowing deep in his heart of hearts, that he should. He knew that voice, he would know it anywhere.

“Stephen, wake up.”

Water began to fill his lungs.

An invisible hand, as cold as ice, latched onto his forehead, and Stephen could feel the pull of energy, the rearranging of memories, the stealing of nightmares

No! Stay out, stay out, stay _out_

He could not stop himself. Something at the back of his muddled brain was screaming at him to hold back, he was going to hurt someone, no, not just someone

But the hand was still trying to pull him out of his dreamscape, if it pulled too hard, it was going to rip her out too

Stay OUT!

The blast of energy that jolted the hand away snapped Stephen out of his half-wakeful, half-asleep state and he gasped in horror.

“Loki!”

His eyes took a second too long to adjust to the darkness, and when Loki did not answer immediately, an icy fear chilled his spine to the core.

“Loki!” He called out again frantically this time.

“I am here.”

Stephen followed the green tinge of light in one corner of the room where the backlash of mystical energy had pushed him; Loki’s shield of green and gold pulsated strong and steady, enveloping him in a protective cocoon of seidr.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. You did not.” Loki lowered his shield, and with a wave of his hand, switched on every light in the room. “Are you alright?”

Stephen did not answer. His hand palmed the empty space next to him.

Loki obliged, climbing into the bed once more. A look of concern passed over his features. “You had a nightmare.”

“I…did.” Stephen held a shaky hand to his forehead and it came away slick with sweat.

“Who was she?”

“No one,” Stephen said flatly.

Loki’s fingers ghosted over his bicep, not quite touching.

“No secrets, remember?”

Stephen turned his head slowly.

“You keep more secrets than anyone I know, Loki. Can’t you let me keep this one to myself?”

Loki reached out across Stephen’s chest to grab the hand still palming his forehead. He balled Stephen’s hand into a fist and tucked it under his chin. Stephen could feel the rumble of Loki’s voice against his skin as he spoke.

“Not when you scream my name and in the same breath, you scream another.”

Stephen’s breath caught in his chest.

“Who is Donna?”

An unknown amount of time passed in silence, and Stephen could be forgiven to think that perhaps if he were to drift into sleep now, he would not need to answer…but alas, no sleep was going to visit him again tonight.

“My sister.”

Loki had put two and two together, there was no doubt about it. It was evident in the way he said his next two words.

“I’m sorry.”

Stephen’s forehead wrinkled. His other arm reached over to rest on Loki’s side. It was meant to be comforting, but his words came out empty and meaningless. “You didn’t do anything. She died long before I met you.”

“What I did brought back the memories, didn’t it.”

“I couldn’t save her,” Stephen said monotonously. “What you did or didn’t do will never change that.”

Loki was silent for a long time. “Perhaps.”

Stephen found the hand Loki had fiercely tucked in the crook of his neck now suddenly pressed against the swell of his belly. “But saving two out of three…isn’t all that bad, is it, husband?”

At the sight of the tears in Loki’s eyes, Stephen could feel his eyes well up in turn. _Oh Loki._

“Not bad.” The breaths returned to him as the tightening around his chest loosened suddenly.

“Not bad at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and the kudoses guys. Love it when you drop me a line. <3 Penny for your thoughts?


	7. Physical Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When has it ever been easy for Loki and Stephen?
> 
> (This chapter had a bit of reference to The Contract, pertaining to something about Loki and Thor)

_New York, present time_

 

“I thought you said he’s about six months along?” Tony looked Loki up and down critically. “He doesn’t look very pregnant.”

Loki frowned. Should he be flattered? Offended? Something else altogether?

Tony glanced at Stephen, doubtful, as if his friend had been telling a fib all along. “He looks just like me after three burritos and a beer on any Friday night!”

 _“Hey!”_ Now that Loki took offense to.

Stephen frowned. “It is quite peculiar. Usually with subsequent pregnancies, women tend to show more and much earlier too.” After a beat, “Well. Human women do anyway.”

Bruce adjusted his spectacles so they sat straighter on his nose. “The first scans you did confirmed the period of gestation, I presume?”

“Yes.” Stephen looked worried now. “Granted, the last scan I did was over two months ago…”

“Hmm.” Bruce shrugged. “I suppose we’ll take a look soon enough. I’ve got the latest scan machine in my lab.” Again, Loki frowned at how excited he sounded.

Bruce could not stop giving his two cents’ worth, “Hey maybe he’s just carrying high, you know like your grandmother used to say...it’s a girl this time right?”

Tony just stared at him blankly. “Your grandmother had seven PhDs too? Because that sounds like a crock of shit – ”

“Well, isn’t this grand. Care to include me in the conversation, gentlemen, since as it happens, it _is_ about me?” Loki unconsciously pulled his coat tighter around himself, rendering his barely visible belly even more invisible.

“I’ll have you know I come from a long line of insanely smart people. My grandmother was the first scientist in her village.”

“Didn’t you tell me she was a hoodoo priestess?

“That too.”

Stephen was _touching_ him now. “Loki, what was your birth weight as a child? Small babies can run in families…” he murmured, a frown marring his handsome features. “I was a massive eight-pounder.”

“I’ll eight pound you if you don’t take your hands off me right now, husband or not.” An icy gale blew through the room despite the closed windows.

Bruce guffawed. “That doesn’t make any sense, Loki.”

“There was a time when I struck fear in every living soul in this city.” A sick whisper. A pale hand rose to grip his forehead. “What have you done to me?”

“Now, now, Loki…” Stephen held out a hand placatingly.

“When this is all over, maybe I will take over this city agai – _oof!”_ Loki sank backward into the large, plushy sofa, its beanie bag consistency almost swallowing him whole as his legs flew out from under him, sending his arms grappling the empty air and his belly sticking out –

Tony only stared. “Yep. Make that two burritos.”

 _“Stark!!!_ ”

____________________________

 

"You are sure about the date of conception?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Absolutely, definitely, to-the- _death_ sure.”

Stephen only shrugged at Bruce’s inquiring gaze. He flicked his wrist in agreement. “What he said.”

“Hmm.” Bruce gently felt Loki’s abdomen and measured the fundal height again. Just by eyeballing, Stephen could tell Loki's bump was smaller than it should be. “Yep. Still the same. Twenty centimetres.”

Loki eyed the identical frowns on his husband and friend’s faces in turn. He decided it was still too early to get pissy at what was clearly the beginning of a let’s-keep-things-secret-from-Loki-because-it’s-fun conspiracy, so he only asked lightly, “I take it that twenty is not our lucky number today?”

“It would have been…three weeks ago.” Bruce was never one to be brought down by uncertainties so he only smiled brightly. “Well. Let’s just give my new machine a go, shall we?”

Stephen took a seat on the other side of the examining table. Unlike Bruce, he could not bring himself to smile. Loki would only catch him out anyway. “Could just be wrong dates.”

“Let’s not jump the gun. My new baby will tell us more, it gives very accurate readings with discrepancy between estimated and actual foetal weight to the nearest 100 grams or less.” The probe hovered an inch over Loki’s abdomen as Bruce awaited his consent, “You ready?”

Loki shrugged. “I suppose. Better be quick about it before Thor comes back.”

“Thor came with you?”

“He’s at Central Park taking Stian on one of those horse-led carriage rides,” Loki murmured, shifting slightly as the cold gel on his skin gave him a startle.

Bruce’s face clearly brightened, for he did have a soft spot for the little Prince. “But now let’s take a look at the little Princess..”

The next few minutes passed in total silence save for the occasional clicking as Bruce recorded and saved his measurements.

Stephen stole a glance at his husband. Glued to the monitor on the image of their daughter, Loki’s eyes had taken a soft appearance and his smile was wistful, small though it was.

He grabbed Loki’s hand and felt his squeezed in return.

“All parameters seem to correspond to somewhere between nineteen and twenty weeks,” Bruce muttered finally. “Amniotic fluid is a bit on the borderline low side…you haven’t experienced any leaking or anything like that?”

“Leaking?” Loki looked to Stephen blankly.

“If your water breaks prematurely sometimes it happens in gushes or small leaks, you may mistake them as involuntary passing of urine?”

Loki shook his head slowly, a look of utter horror on his face. “How very unsightly.”

“Well on the bright side, the placenta is as high-up as you can have it this time around so. Have at it guys!” Bruce nudged Stephen’s shoulder with the back of the hand holding the probe; the human sorcerer had suddenly leaned forward over Loki’s supine form to peer at the monitor.

“Those small, white spotty bits over the placenta. Are those calcifications?” Bruce’s vulgar comment in jest was completely lost on Stephen, whose face had suddenly turned very serious.

Bruce adjusted the dial setting to correct the echogenicity. “Looks like. Are they important?”

“Important in the sense that they can be entirely normal or dreadfully pathological.”

Loki could not take it anymore. A dagger appeared in his hand. Stephen quickly palmed his wrist, holding it down. “Patience, darling. The doctors are talking.”

“Not when I’m done stabbing one or both of you if you don’t start telling me what is going on.”

After a second's hesitation, Bruce decided to take pity on him. “The baby is a bit on the small side, Loki. But we can’t tell for sure just from one scan, we need to do serial scans and monitor the baby’s progress to really say for certain – there can be a number of things that can affect the baby’s growth…you have been sick up till recently, haven’t you?”

“Very,” Stephen murmured.

Loki frowned deeply. “But I’m better now.”

“Well, hopefully once you start eating better and getting plenty of rest, she will catch up soon enough.” Bruce eyed him surreptitiously. “You are positively scrawny. And your colouring is off.”

“You should have seen him last month. He looked like something out of a concentration camp.” Bruce handed Stephen some tissue paper which he then used to wipe Loki’s abdomen clean, completely ignoring all the glares Loki was sending his way.

“So we’ll see you back in a month?”

“Absolutely.” Again, Stephen answered for him and Loki bristled. That could only mean Stephen was worried, and a worried Stephen was one Hel of a control freak.

The controlling Loki could handle (he would just keep doing what he damn well pleased). It was the secrets…the withholding of information that he had a problem with.

“What are you not telling me?” Loki asked quietly after Bruce went out of ear-shot to return the machine back to its storage place.

Stephen stood to discard the used tissue paper. He did not turn around. “It’s nothing we should be worrying about. Not yet.”

“Stephen,” Loki said warningly.

“It’s _nothing_ , Loki,” Stephen growled. “You just – ” He inhaled deeply. “You just need to focus on getting better. That’s all you have to worry about.”

“Not this again, Strange.” Loki palmed his eyes tiredly. “Give me a break already. Am I going to have to bombard you with questions and hope one of them randomly hits your nerves enough for you to give me a straight answer?”

“Brother!”

“Pappa!”

“What is that on your face?” Stephen’s hands automatically flew to his hips.

“Mister Stark gave it to me, Daddy, he made me eat it.”

“Stark, _please_ tell me that is not Stark Raving Hazelnut you have given my son?” Stephen glowered.

“It’s Uncle Tony, Stian, Uncle Tony!” Apparently bribing the kid with ice cream was not enough to endear the snooty little brat to him.

“Now, now, brother-in-law, do not fret so! The ice sugar confectionery is mine, actually, I only let him have a taste, it was the only flavour they had at the store –“

“Because it’s bloody awful no one would buy it, that’s why!”

“Hey!” Maybe Tony should buy him horses next time, the kid seemed to love them.

“Stian!”

“Uncle Bruce!” Stian unceremoniously dropped the cone onto the floor and squealed in delight before jumping into Bruce’s awaiting arms.

“Nooo…” Tony buried his hands in his hair. “No, no, no, no!”

He pointed at Bruce accusingly but directed the question at Loki. “Why is he Uncle Bruce and I am the nasty Mister Stark? Did you have anything to do with this?”

“Why, Stark, I didn’t know you thought that highly of me.” Loki wrapped his trench coat around his middle, his words light-hearted, yet his movements were jerky and testy. “I have no idea how that happened.”

“I am in the dark. As always.” He viciously tied the belt around his waist and without another word, stalked out of the medical bay.

And suddenly Stephen found himself the center of attention as Tony, Thor and Bruce turned to look at him.

Stephen looked up from the pool of melted ice cream on the floor, only to offer in a dead-pan manner, “Hormones?”

____________________________

 

_New Asgard, way back when_

 

Stephen had never been a heavy sleeper as his vocation of choice never really advocated quality sleep, but in the recent years (and certainly ever since his car accident) it had become worse. Now the slightest sound would wake him up.

Tonight however, it was the complete and utter silence that did.

At least when they had gone to bed, despite the frosty exchange of goodnights, the sound of Loki shuffling under the covers and the subsequent deep breathing as he drifted off was enough to lull Stephen into sleep himself.

The Egg Benedict lay half-eaten on the bedside table by Loki’s side of the bed; Loki barely managed two bites before apparently abandoning it. So not even Stephen’s cooking could whip up a serviceable appetite; the sight of the hollandaise sauce congealed in a puddle of rancid goo was enough to turn his stomach.

Loki was nowhere to be seen.

Stephen pushed himself up to a sitting position, pushing the covers back. He listened for any sound from the bathroom. He heard none.

“Loki?”

He followed where his feet led him as they moved on their own volition toward the annex. He hesitated only for a fraction of a second, for the wards lifted just as his hand touched the knob. Silently he pushed the nursery door open.

The ghostly figure he could see sitting quietly in the rocking chair beyond the railing of the empty crib held their sleeping son closer to his bosom.

“It’s just me.” Which would have gone without saying, but the relieved look in Loki’s half-lidded eyes told him that the Prince was not quite as alert as Stephen initially thought he was. Loki looked exhausted.

“Can’t sleep?” He could not think of a better way to start the conversation, with it being 3 a.m. and all.

“Staying awake means I can enjoy the pleasure of living for longer hours than had I spent them sleeping,” Loki murmured. “It is a myth that children grow taller in their sleep, is it not?”

He swept a lock of hair off Stian’s forehead. “And yet I can dare say that it is entirely true.”

Stephen walked over to clasp the railing of his son’s crib, but did not come any closer.

“Does staying awake also mean staving off nightmares?”

“The pain was bearable at the time it happened, at least up till the point I lost consciousness.” Loki closed his eyes. “It comes back ten-fold when I dream.”

The air became still, as all breaths halted.

“You should have told me. I could have helped you.” Stephen gripped the railing so hard his knuckles stretched white and numb. “I am right here.”

“You weren’t before. I do not want to get used to it.” There was no malice in Loki’s voice.

Despite it, the blood still rushed to Stephen’s head and his face, his chest _burned_. “That is _not_ fair.”

It did not seem as if Loki was listening.

“It stole the very breath out of me. Would have liquefied my insides had I been a lesser sorcerer and the agony, I would not wish on anyone.” Loki’s voice was calm. Just like a river. “As the blood filled my mouth and my belly and my lungs, all I could think about was you.”

His next words replaced the fire in Stephen’s blood with ice.

“And you weren’t there.”

The paralysing, tingling sensation crept all the way to Stephen’s legs and he sank into a chair at the opposite end of the room.

“You could have called.” Was perhaps the only thing anyone in his position could say, really. The alternative would have been staying silent, but Stephen could not take it, he could not tolerate the silence anymore –

“You mean the same way you called when the Dragon sank its teeth into your chest cavity and the only reason why you are still alive right now is because Wong had more sense than the lot of you combined and sought my help?”

“What?”

“Where did you think the healing stones he used came from? And the antidote to dragon’s blood?”

Stephen let out a low, guttural moan and buried his face in his hands. This was _not_ happening.

“Hence Doctor, my question. You may answer if you so choose.” For all his outward appearance of reticence, Loki was very talkative tonight. “Why did I need to hear it from Wong, and not you?”

Hang on a minute - “But I only came back last night, so you were poisoned first!”

“Oh, is this a competition now?”

“And what about Stian, how could you not tell me about _him?_ ”

“You were deep in battle, I was not going to distract you – ”

“He is my son too!”

“Yes, who would have lost his father had I not kept a cool enough head to stop myself from Mindspeaking you to pieces of meat in my hysterics!” Loki snarled. “In your absence I am his protector – I protect myself and I protect him, and I did!”

“Yrsa took the hit. Not you.” Acid burned the tip of his tongue.

Loki recoiled in his seat, aghast.

He shifted Stian in his arm slightly and slowly reached for his robe, prising it apart.

Spanning the entire width of his chest was the burnt remnant of a hastily carved rune in a language Stephen did not recognise, the ugly blisters in varying degrees of healing, some already dried, some still weeping an angry, inflamed red. Blood magic, nasty thing it was, quick to kill, slow to heal.

“From my sickbed I could feel it coming and I _crawled_ to where our sweet boy slept,” Loki spat. “I was so weak I could not even conjure my dagger so I dug into my skin with my nails!”

Loki’s face was as white as a ghost. “It worked but I was incapacitated. Yrsa threw herself over me so the backlash from the counter-spell would not burn me any more than it already had.”

Stephen did not know how or when, perhaps his feet had developed a mind of their own, or perhaps it was the Cloak who pushed him, but he suddenly found himself standing in front of Loki.

He dropped to his knees. “Why, Loki?”

One hand reached out to rest on Stian’s head, the other to touch the still-raw blemish on Loki’s ivory chest.

Stephen felt tears sting his eyes, and hastily buried his face in Loki's lap, grateful for the heavy woollen throw covering Loki’s legs. “Why do you keep me out?”

“I have no claim over you,” Loki whispered. He did not trust his voice not to shake had he chosen to speak aloud.

“You have every claim over me.”

Loki smiled gratefully at him for the lie.

“You are the Sorcerer Supreme, Protector of the Earth,” Loki said gently. “In the grand scheme of the seven billion lives on earth, I am nobody.”

Stephen felt the back of his neck bristle in indignation. “After all that has happened between us, you still doubt me?”

“For all that I claim to know, Strange…” Loki leaned his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard against the despair in his chest. “You do give me too much credit for thinking I know a damn worth of anything at all.”

He finally opened his eyes but they stared at the ceiling, blank and unseeing. “What are we? Lovers? Friends with benefits? Co-parents?”

“I don’t know anything anymore. I thought I did, but…” Loki’s head dropped to his chest, his long hair obscuring at last the only part of his face Stephen could see until then. “I know nothing.”

“I know I love you,” Stephen felt the words tumble out of his mouth spontaneously without hesitation. How could the words come so easily to him and yet Loki still could not see -?

“Perhaps our love – ” Loki choked back tears. “Perhaps our love is just…a physical _tête-a tête._ _”_ He buried his face in Stian’s hair. “Just like our baby. An _accident_.”

Stephen was stunned.

“Perhaps in the end, it is I who loves you, more than you love me.” Loki sighed, willing the wetness in his eyes to recede. There was to be no spilling of tears tonight. His heart, his very soul was splayed open as it was. His next words were but a mere whisper, “Just like everyone else before you.”

“But no matter. I am used to being the less beloved.”

Stephen stared at him until his eyes watered from not blinking.

“For someone so old you are the biggest idiot in the world.”

“If not believing in fairy tales and happily-ever-afters makes me an idiot, then I accept,” Loki said coolly. “You cannot give up your calling, just as I cannot give up Asgard.”

“Does the throne mean that much to you?”

“Strange. Just when I thought you were beginning to understand me a little better.” Loki’s eyes were as bitter as the bite in his voice. “I have never wanted the throne.”

“Then why can’t you just come with me?” Frustration came over Stephen in waves, like it had so many times in the past twenty-four hours. “Why can’t we be a real family, just the three of us?”

“I swore an oath to Thor to never leave his side, and –” Loki halted in mid-sentence, his breath fluttering in his chest as he caught himself.

“And?” Stephen’s heart pounded, unsure if he was really prepared to hear what was coming.

“And I swore to him that if we were to die, we would die together.” Loki gazed at him serenely. “Not one before the other. Not anymore.”

“Is that the truth?”

“No more lies,” Loki’s eyes fluttered to a close; he felt so, incredibly tired. “No more secrets.”

“Is there still no space for me?” Stephen reached out to touch Loki’s breast where he knew his heart lay – “Here?”

“You know better than anyone the Sanctity of Vows, Doctor.”

Loki shuddered against the almost physical ache in his chest.

“All my cards are on the table, Stephen.” Loki released his hold around Stian as if in a gesture of offering, and a lock of glossy hair fell over his son’s high forehead, hair as black as midnight against skin as soft and white as falling snow. “What about you?”

Stephen's lips thinned to an angry, white line.

“I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, Odinson," he said fiercely. “I’m an all-or-nothing kind of guy, and I am all _fucking_ in.”

Loki’s face crumbled and the blasted tears began to fall –

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I am so, so sorry.”

“Shh.” Stephen smothered him with a kiss, and another, and another, and soon he was plastering kisses all over Loki’s face, “ _I’m_ sorry, and I love you.”

The salt on his tongue was sweet, and it drove Stephen to kiss the tears away until Loki was crying no more.

“And I don’t _ever_ want to hear you say stupid shit like me loving you less or some other crazy thing like that again, _okay_?” He grabbed the back of Loki’s neck. “I mean it.”

“Okay.”

“I love you.” Stephen repeated. “You’re a bit crazy, but I love you.”

“Okay, but that’s…going a bit too far.”

Stephen laughed. And soon they were both laughing. In the dark. With a sleeping baby in between their chests.

“Looks like we forgot the number one rule in parenting, never wake a sleeping baby,” Stephen snickered.

“Do you honestly think we are going to get any sleep tonight?” Loki asked mischievously.

Stephen shook his head in a mixture of relief…and disbelief.

“How did you get the antidote to dragon’s blood anyway?”

“Merlin and I had a thing.” A watery grin. “Way back when.”

“Seriously.”

“Seriously.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatever Endgame has in store for us, StrangeFrost lives on, if only in our hearts and fanfiction. Love it when you guys drop me a line. Thanks for reading!


	8. The Girl In the Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter alludes to the notion that Loki was no stranger to the Order of the Mystic Arts, as he had hinted as much to Karl Mordo during their duel in The Contract.

_Kamar-Taj, time immemorial_

 

“Loki.”

“Sorcerer Supreme.”

“It has been centuries.”

“It is only right that I come.” Loki spread his arms.  “Bearing warm wishes, good tidings – ” a small, brown package appeared in one hand, “and _tea_.”

She walked into his arms and embraced him tightly. She savoured the earthy, musky scent with citrusy undertones in girly delight – “Da Hong Pao?”

“Would I bring you anything inferior?”

“Only you would put the most expensive tea in the world in a doggy bag.” Being of impressive height herself, she pecked him on the temple with relative ease.

“I suppose congratulations is in order?” He squeezed her arms warmly.

“How did you know?”

Loki only smiled one of his rarer, kind smiles.

She sighed, shaking her head in bemusement. “How could you not know.”

“I may not be as powerful a seer as you, but I have my ways of knowing.”

“Of course.”

They walked into the courtyard, largely deserted except for a small group of students crowding under a tree in formation. The apprentices pointedly ignored them as they went about their martial arts practice.

“Darling, please tell me I did not just walk into one of your invisibility spells.” He grumbled, “You know I hate not being the centre of attention."

“Oh, but you’re _my_ secret, Loki.”

The Mirror Dimension was a containment spell of her own creation, one she had perfected over the years as she apprenticed under the tutelage of the late Sorcerer Supreme.

“Naughty.” He glanced at her out the corner of her eyes. “You _have_ missed me.”

“Terribly.”

She threw open the double doors to her private study and swept the gaudy beaded curtain to one side, gesturing him inside.

“If you had only been more forthcoming with your feelings – ” He mused, studying the various Thankas mounted on the wall, made of decadent silk appliqué and the finest cotton. “We could have easily been lovers.”

He fingered one made entirely of gold and silver threads, depicting Yama Dharmapala, the Wrathful God of Death.

“Goodness. Your tastes haven’t changed a bit," he muttered under his breath. "The last time I saw this was back in your 17th century.” 

“I’m sure we could.” She concurred, alluding to his previous proposition, her eyes watching as he walked slowly around her study. “I have always had a thing for older men.”

“Older beings, you mean.”

She clasped her hands across the front of her body in anticipation. Something was coming.

Loki helped himself to an antique-looking carver chair and leaned back, his hair spilling over the backrest, looking every inch his regal self. “Older than the galaxy itself, it seems.”

“Is this where you chastise me and tell me not to play with fire?”

“Oh, by all means, _play_ , darling.” Loki waved a hand. “Better us than somebody else who doesn’t have a clue what she’s doing.”

“You have always had much confidence in me.”

After a beat,

“Only because I have played before,” he confessed.

“And you won.” Despite her complimentary words, the slightly anxious expression on his face did not change. “You’re still here.”

“But you’re playing a far more dangerous game,” he said quietly. “You’re playing for _life_.”

“Whereas you only played for Asgard.”

Loki tapped a rapid-fire staccato on the ceramic armrest. “I have no need for such long life.”

“Spoken like a true immortal who stares his gift horse in the mouth.”

Loki’s forehead furrowed.

“Every time you brush too close to death a clump of my hair falls.”

Loki knew it was impolite to laugh but he could not help it. “Your concern touches me, as always.”

“As does yours, my love.”

“I live and breathe danger. When I say the Dark Dimension is dangerous, I do not exaggerate.” Loki lifted a finger. “Intoxicating, I give you that, but fraught with hazards nonetheless, and I do not mean simply the physical kind.”

“Shall I bargain with you?” She leaned her tall, willowy frame against the wall farthest from him. “A secret for a secret?”

“I don’t see how we can strike a fair one. You have all the advantages over me, being all-seeing and a witch.”

“And you’re an alien sorcerer who survived Dormammu and saved his home.  I need to learn how to save mine.”

Long seconds passed. Loki held out a hand for her to take. When she came closer and he broke the silence, his voice was low, almost a whisper – “With or without sacrificing yourself?”

“Does it have to be mutually exclusive?”

“Depends. What do you wish to keep in the end?” Loki took her hand and studied her palm lines. They had not changed since they last saw each other. Would they remain the same the next time he came to visit? “Your body? Your mind? Your soul?”

She held the hand once extended to her all those centuries ago.

The hand that had saved her life.

She lifted it to her lips and kissed the back of it, to Loki’s suspicion, somewhat apologetically. He frowned.

“You cannot beat a river into submission, yet you cannot lose yourself to the currents.”

“So teach me to swim.” Her request sounded more an order than a plea.

He remembered her bargain. “Tell me my secret.”

“Only if it is one of my choosing?”

“Oh dear. And here I thought I’d get you to tell me how I am to meet my death.”

She stared into his green eyes and straight into his soul. “You _know_ how you will meet your death.”

“Prophecies schmophecies,” he shrugged, smiling lazily.

She draped herself on the divan and languidly crossed one long leg over the other.  

“I will tell you of love.”

“Love?” If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the distaste in his voice on the tip of her own tongue.

“One of the great loves of your life.” She reopened her eyes, all mysterious. “Dare I say even the greatest.”

“You would tell me of Sigyn?” His voice was quiet and light, yet the pain in his eyes was anything but.

She shook her head. “Future love.”

“If you tell it, it won’t happen.”

She shook her head again. “This is a fixed point in your timeline. This version of you anyway.”

“It will come to pass.” Loki heard the words and the truth in them and yet he was hesitant. He never did like peeking into the future. It always brought the excitement of living down a notch, but still he had to know, just a little bit –

“Will she give me children?” He held a hand to touch fleetingly the lapel of a very handsome red cloak as it floated around the study. It seemed to have taken a liking to him; the thing had been flying around as if sniffing him out the moment he entered the door.

“He will give you many children.”

His hand stilled. It dropped away from the sentient cloth.

Loki turned around slowly.

She lifted a guilty eyebrow that seemed to ask _‘too much?’_

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you will name one of them after me.”

As serious as the discussion was, he simply could not resist rolling his eyes. “I am not going to name my child The Ancient One!”

She pulled her chin back to peer at him as if staring over the top of a pair of imaginary spectacles.

“No one will be able to tell if it’s a girl or a boy!”

She snorted a laugh. “ _That’s_ your issue with it?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Is he handsome though, at least?”

“Oh, very,” she said nonchalantly, studying her fingernails. “Because that is _so_ important.”

He smiled prettily. “Obviously.”

She laughed again, properly and out loud this time. She always enjoyed his visits, as sporadic and far between as they may be. “Staying for tea?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Soon, he was lying on a chaise-longue with a cup and saucer resting on his stomach, his eyes closed as he listened to her play on the erhu. They were all familiar tunes, his favourites and her favourites alike played in turn.

“So when will this mystery man and I be bringing our brood over…is it anytime soon? This century? The next?” He opened his eyes. “I assume you would want to meet your namesake?”

The fiddle stilled. Her eyes glazed. She did not answer.

The next tune she played was sombre and sorrowful.

Loki slowly raised himself to an upright position. Despite the melancholic atmosphere, his heart began to pound.

“Why do you not answer?” It was a rhetorical question for Loki suddenly realised he had known the answer all along, hidden in the music.

She was playing for the dead, and perhaps the dead was she, for she had tears in her eyes.

_No._

Loki rose to his feet.

For all her age, power, and stature, she was once again the fourteen-year-old maiden Loki had saved from the maws of death and as drops of tears fell onto the red sandalwood body of the violin, Loki dropped to his knees at her feet.

“Oh, my sweet.” Loki’s cool fingers reached to thumb away the tears from her pale, pale cheek.

“My sweet, sweet darling,” she heard him say, so far away yet so close, and she played and played for there would come a time when she could no longer play for him and she feared, no, she _knew_ , that she would not live long enough to teach Stephen Strange how to play Loki’s favourite songs let alone see their beautiful, beautiful daughter –

“Remember my name.”

____________________________

_New York, present time_

 

“How about…Hatshepsut?”

“Are you seriously considering naming our daughter after an ancient Egyptian queen?”

“She single-handedly built the wealth of Eighteenth Dynasty Egypt. Rich as Hel, impeccable lineage too.” Loki mulled the names in his head. “Or how about this –” he drew an imaginary line across the air with his two index fingers, as if writing a name in the sky, “Sekhmet.”

“Sekhmet.” Stephen repeated.

“Yes, Sekhmet. After the greatest Warrior Goddess, the fiercest hunter in all of Egypt.” He grew visibly excited. “If I remember correctly, she was a Goddess of Healing too.”

Stephen stared at him. “Is this because we watched The Mummy last night?”

“No.” Loki sulked. “Well. Maybe.” He pouted with his eyes. “So…it’s a no, then?”

Stephen shook his head kindly. “It’s a no, I’m afraid.”

“But you went with Stian.”

Stephen shrugged. “Because it starts with the first two letters of my name.”

Loki pelted him with a fry.

"There is power in a name, Stephen.” He hunched over in his chair and somehow Stephen knew Loki was fighting the urge to touch his belly for fear of attracting attention. Ever since visiting Bruce and Tony, Loki had been plagued by constant worrying, which in turn, induced a vicious cycle of anxiety.

“We have to give her the strongest name we can possibly give her.”

Stephen was quiet for a moment. He knew the ambience could shift any which way, depending on his next words.

“How about Thora then?”

Another fry hit Stephen square on the forehead.

“Stop playing with your food, Loki.” Stephen tried not to smile. He always cherished their times spent away from New Asgard; there was something carefree about the way Loki carried himself when it was just the two of them, and New York seemed to bring that side of him out most often.

He would even go as far as to say that Loki looked healthier than he had seen in months, despite the constant cloud of worry hanging over their heads.

“If we are going Egyptian this time, how about Arsinoë?” Stephen teased.

A frosty silence ensued, warring with the warm August sunlight.

“Is that meant to be a joke?” Loki asked flatly. “I am nothing like her.”

“She was a Warrior Queen, wasn’t she? Pushed back Julius Caesar and his mighty Roman army at one point during the Siege of Alexandria.”

“And she also tried to kill Cleopatra. Her sister.”

“She was the beauty of the two, I heard.”

Loki lifted an eyebrow coolly. “Well, I am prettier than Thor.”

“Breathtaking, actually, under the right lighting.” Stephen reached over the table and thumbed a smudge of aioli off the vermilion border of Loki’s lower lip.

He sucked his thumb. Loki stared.

Arousal stirred deep in Loki’s gut and his thighs tingled with want.

“Suddenly I am not hungry anymore.”

Stephen was still smiling that infuriating, arrogant smirk of his. “We had a bargain, Loki. Finish half your food, and I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Finish it all, I’ll take you there twice.”

Loki growled and made a vicious show of biting into his burger, despite hardly making a dent in the sandwich. “You wait until this baby is out of me and I’ll teleport wherever I want and you won’t be able to find me.”

“Not too soon, I hope.”

And both their smiles faltered slightly.

“Why are you making me eat this disgusting fare, anyway?” Loki wiped his greasy fingers on a napkin, grimacing in distaste.

Stephen shrugged. “No harm treating yourself once in a while.”

“But I’m not exactly enjoying this. It’s such a chore.” Loki sighed, picking at his cheeseburger. “If you so wish to fatten me up, I’d rather drink a vat of cooking oil and be done with it.”

“Somehow I have a feeling you’re not joking.”

Just to humour his doting husband, Loki took another obligatory bite out of his burger. “You’re lucky I like you, you know that.”

Stephen only smiled indulgently.

Loki peered between the buns and sniffed, before picking the raw onions off. “To think that just the sight of this would have turned my stomach inside out within seconds when I was carrying Stian.”

“Every pregnancy is different,” Stephen murmured.

Loki’s fingers stopped halfway from digging through the toppings in search for more hiding raw slices of onion. His face turned glum. “I suppose it is.”

Stephen looped an ankle around Loki’s own under the table. “Hey.”

Loki looked at him.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said as reassuringly as he could.

Loki continued to look at him unhappily

“You’re going to be okay,” Stephen repeated. “ _She’s_ going to be okay.”

“Did you look into the future and find all that out?” Loki asked lightly.

Stephen was catapulted into momentary silence.

Of course, if Stephen knew for certain, he would not have said it, would never risk jinxing it. And Loki knew him all too well.

“I didn’t think so.” Loki forced a smile onto his suddenly pasty face. “But thank you for saying it anyway.”

They stared at each other, neither feeling much like saying anything. False reassurances had a way of killing all conversation.

Stephen was aware of the depth of Loki’s worry. He had caught him studying his profile in the mirror several times when Loki thought Stephen was not looking and he did not have to be an empath to be able to read Loki’s mind for he too shared the same wish – for Loki to be strong enough to carry their daughter to term.

“Stina.”

 _Back to baby names it is, then._ “No.”

“Stella.”

“No.”

“Stefana.”

“Loki, I’m flattered, really, but I was only kidding about using part of my name for every kid we have. I am honestly not that vain about it.”

“Stevia.”

“Now you’re just avoiding finishing your food.” As if of one mind, The Cloak reached across the table and slapped the back of Loki’s scavenging hand, “Will you stop picking at it? Why did you get all the toppings if you were not going to eat them?”

“A naked burger and a heavily-dressed burger cost the same. I just got the latter simply for the tremendous sense of value.” Loki sighed. “I can’t eat this. I give up.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Then what do you feel like eating then?”

“Ghost peppers?” Loki said hopefully, shyly.

An absolute, resounding, “ _No_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed writing this chapter. I needed a happy place after you-know-what and fic-writing has always been my respite. I know it's lighter than my usual writing but I guess I needed a break from the angst as much as everybody else in the world right now. If you've read this far, thank you and God bless. 2021 can't come quickly enough!


	9. Just Another Groundhog Day in New Asgard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki relives a nightmare.

_New Asgard, way back when_

 

The Great Dining Hall of Asgard used to be a place of joyous congregation, with merry drinking and great feasting all year round; it was obvious King Thor had every plan to emulate the Asgard dining etiquette and protocols of old, the tables heavily-laden with great casks of beer and platters of roasting meat and poultry of every attainable kind, locally-sourced of course.

But dinner that night was a sordid affair; the Royal Council had once again convened to discuss Thor’s sudden announcement, and the emergency session had lasted deep enough into the evening that Loki, despite his usually meagre appetite, was feeling actual pangs of hunger, having taken little breakfast and missed lunch.

When Thor took the seat next to him on the High Table, the hunger headache had so soured his mood that he could not even bring himself to look at his brother, despite Thor’s attempt at exchanging pleasantries.

“I am not talking to you, Thor.”

“You cannot ignore me forever, Brother.”

“Watch me,” he said viciously through gulps of water.

“I have always known you weren’t the brightest of the bunch but of all the stupid, _stupid_ things you could have done – ” Loki clenched his teeth against the suddenly increased throbbing in his temple. He pushed his ice water away. “No. This simply has to wait.”

He irritably signaled Einar to come closer.

“Highness?”

“Could you please tell the kitchens to prepare something lighter for me? All this meat is making me nauseous.”

“Certainly, Your Highness.” Einar suggested, “Some fish chowder perhaps? Fresh catch just came in.”

“A small bowl, please.” Thor did not even deserve the deadly glare he would have usually sent his way at this point.  “I need to see to Stian. I’ve been called away for far too long today.”

“Thought you were hungry.” Thor was still trying to make conversation.

Loki sighed. “And so are you. Just eat your damn dinner and leave me in peace. We will talk later.” He added maliciously for good measure. “ _In private_.”

“As long as we talk, Brother,” Thor said in a calm manner which Loki found simply infuriating.

A sense of déjà vu filled him as he swept his eyes over the Dining Hall, finding the seating arrangements of the courtiers and palace officials, as well as the almost identical looks of foreboding? – discontent? – on their faces somewhat familiar, as if he had lived this night before.

He turned his head to look at his brother and true enough, Thor grabbed for the pitcher of wine first instead of diving straight into his food, just as Thor had done that night –

No, not only had Loki lived this night – he _survived_ it.

 _This is a dream_ , he realised. _I am reliving the nightmare._

Instead of returning him to awareness and wakefulness, the sudden insight into what he thought was reality being actually not pulled him under deeper; Loki’s vision began to yellow with everything around him taking on sepia undertones.

Loki willed himself to ride against it but it was futile; just like the previous nights, his attempts at changing something, anything, in the effort to alter the course of the dream utterly failed. His hands, his limbs, all his muscles would not override the old commands, would not execute any new movements that could have returned to him some semblance of control.

The cloying scent assaulted his senses first before a small bowl of thick, creamy soup was served him by an unseen hand. His headache was giving him tunnel vision.

“A splash of milk, my Prince?”

 _No_. “Sure,” his not-mouth answered.

_No milk. No soup. I want none of it._

Yet his fingers would not listen, readily picking up a spoon instead to start eating.

 _Maybe tonight will be different,_ he thought frantically. _Maybe I will wake up sooner, before I could taste it_ –

_Before the pain._

Yet the rich, savoury chowder slid down just as easily as before; it was a familiar taste and his personal favourite, a taste of home, just the way the old kitchen of Asgard used to make it.

 _Spit it out!_ Loki screamed at himself but his trapped psyche could only look on in horror as his corporeal form took in spoonful after spoonful, feeling each one hitting just the right spot, filling him with a deep warmth like a coat of fur in the cold of winter. He could even feel Thor’s smile on him, for of course he would find the sight of his brother scoffing his food down like a ravenous beast entertaining; Thor was simple like that.

 _Thor, help me,_ he begged. _Knock the spoon out of my hand, the bowl off the table, anything – just do something._

But the stupid idiot just kept smiling.

Perhaps Loki was the bigger idiot, for despite the warning pangs of a peculiar, twisting pain in his gut, he had kept eating, putting it all down to hunger.

“Good?” Thor tried again.

Loki frowned.

Thor’s smile wavered. “Loki?”

Loki’s hand had stopped. The spoon dropped with a clang. Bile collected in his mouth, for the burn had begun.

The fire started in his throat and his hand reached for it. The fire traveled down his gullet and collected in his belly.

His shaky fingers came to rest against his stomach, where the blaze suddenly roared to thrice its size.

_What is this?_

Loki’s other hand left its deadly grip around the edge of the table to join the other as they desperately fisted his belly. A moan escaped him as he doubled over.

 _“Thor -"_ He tried calling out but he choked as an inferno of pain erupted; the gust of air driven out of his lungs took on the shape of a strangled scream as he bucked against the heavy mahogany of his chair, sending it crashing onto its side.

He felt hands on his shoulder, on his back, pawing the side of his neck -

His body lost all form of muscle memory and he slid down, slipping into the gap between the table and the toppled chair.

_Stephen._

He did not remember hitting the floor, only of the long curtain of black hair that had suddenly fallen over his face like a veil – Valkyrie? She had slid her knees across the dais and caught his falling head with her thigh before it could slam into the floor.

“Thor, help me turn him before he chokes on his own vomit!" He dimly heard her shout and he felt the brush of the cold steel of her vambraced arm against the skin of his cheek as she attempted to push him off his back and onto his side.

_“Loki.”_

His muddled brain must have gotten it wrong this time for Stephen had never before answered, the excruciating pain having robbed him off all capacity to think, let alone the mental strength to call.

_“Stephe-”_

The thousand blades knifing through his stomach drowned all coherent thoughts. He could feel an agonising howl rush past his constricted throat, but he could not hear it for his mouth was fast filling with something tangy and metallic and _hot_.

_“Loki, wake up!”_

Something ripped inside him and Loki must have screamed again for his chest gurgled against the blood and vomit going down the wrong way, and flooding his airways.

Against the fire raging through his insides, a coldness snaked its way inside his head, twisted around the pain

_“Loki, for God’s sake, I know you can hear me – ”_

and _yanked_

“W _ake UP!”_

Loki gasped at the sudden catapult to full consciousness and autonomy over his body. He bolted into an upright position, turned his head and vomited onto the floor.

A hand rubbed circles on his back and another found its way to his convulsing stomach before felt the burn rapidly replaced by a deep-seated, soothing coolness, like a touch of ice to the forehead in the throes of a fever.

Loki retched again, convinced that he was bringing up blood this time like he had the last time, but alas the dry heaves came up empty as Stephen’s fast-working healing spells took effect. As he slowly collapsed backward into his lover’s fussing arms, Loki palmed the phantom pain in his stomach and shuddered.

Stephen held him for the longest time and not a word passed between them.

“I would have come.” Loki felt Stephen’s voice rumble in his chest against the sweat-soaked wetness of his back as he finally spoke. “No matter what.”

Loki closed his eyes. Arguing was the last thing he wanted to do right now. He swallowed down the last remnant of nausea that was fast fading into a bad memory. He reached out a shaking hand over the edge of the bed; it took longer for his seidr to respond but when it finally did, he magicked the mess away.

“Sure.”

______________________________

“I look a fright.”

Fresh out of a shower and a good scrubbing down Loki almost felt normal again, nowhere near as weak as he usually felt after the dream; perhaps Stephen’s presence and timely intervention had had something to do with it.

Stephen studied Loki’s reflection in the mirror. “It’s three o’clock in the morning. Not even Miss Universe looks good at this hour.”

“Would you cut my hair, Stephen?”

Stephen was quiet. Even if there was a shortage of hairdressers that would otherwise be ever ready to serve at the Prince’s beck and call, Loki could easily cut his own hair with magic if he so wished.

“You caught me cutting Stian’s hair, didn’t you?” Stephen ventured a guess. Loki had been so mad the day he came back from a long day at court to find their son’s hair trimmed; Loki would have kept Stian’s hair long but it was simply something Stephen’s prim and prissy side could not accept in a baby.

“So you finally admit to it.” Satisfied, Loki leaned back in his chair, squaring his shoulders.

Stephen shrugged. “It looked good, didn’t it.”

Loki fingered the tips of his shoulder-length hair thoughtfully. “Can you do it without using magic?”

At Stephen’s inquiring gaze, Loki hesitated momentarily before deciding to give his secret away.

“My mother used to cut it for me back when – ” he stopped short. “Never mind. Forget it.”

Stephen inhaled deeply. He knew there was a reason why Loki was being very forgiving about Stephen sneaking behind his back to give their son a badly-needed haircut. “Sure. I’ll do it. If you don’t mind me accidentally stabbing you in the neck with my scissors as I do it.”

He tried not to think of how back in the day, when once in a while he would have patients requesting the same. Almost always, they were palliative patients with terminal illness irremediable through medicine or surgery both; changing their looks had been the one thing the patients had control over in their life anymore.

Nevertheless, Stephen found himself playing along as he rested his hands on Loki’s shoulders. “How short do you want it?”

Loki reached behind his head and gathered his hair, bunching it into a tight ponytail.

With his hair pulled away from his face and neck like that, Stephen understood why Loki thought a haircut could perhaps do him good; Loki looked ten times younger, his face now not so pale in the relative absence of the contrast the blackness of his hair conferred against his alabaster skin.

“As short as yours?”

“You do know I can’t really cut it the way you want it, right?” Stephen said drily. “It might end up looking like Thor’s.”

Loki released his hair, sending it tumbling down the sides of his face once more. He reached for Stephen’s hands still resting on his shoulders and pulled them toward the front of his body.

As expected, the more Stephen tried to still the tremors, the more they shook. The Stephen of old would have pulled his hands away instantly, in humiliation or indignation both, but tonight he just did not have the heart.

There was a vulnerability about Loki that Stephen had never seen before.

Loki held Stephen’s hands palm-down over his own, much like he would hold an open book. He scrutinised the scars on their backs, weighing the coarse tremor coursing through his lover’s fingers.

Stephen felt the warmth of Loki’s seidr against the skin of his palm before he saw it, and he frowned. “What are you doing?”

Loki ignored him completely, and in the mirror, he could see Loki’s lips moving soundlessly over the words of a spell.

Stephen's forehead furrowed further. Light green crackled in between his fingers, sizzling and popping like little tiny bubble wraps. “Loki?”

Loki had tried healing his hands before, on the night they met. Well, not really _met_ met but as in physically connected; it was still a touchy subject, the whole kidnapping and sending him falling through an endless vortex thing. It never really came up, what with the surprise baby and unwittingly falling in love and all - and it had not worked.

But Stephen knew better than to interrupt him in the middle of a spell.

Finally, as suddenly as it had come, the rush of seidr stopped.

Stephen waited. When he felt the tremors, unchanged, his heart sank like a stone.

“Thanks again for trying, Loki, but it didn’t work the last time and I don’t know if we should bother trying anym –“

Loki released his hands and Stephen stumbled backward a few steps from the sudden magical backlash.

He stared at his hands. They were still and steady, with not even the slightest flutter of the tremors that had plagued him for years.

Stephen's heart began to pound.

“What did you do?”

Loki shrugged. “I used a different spell.”

Stephen stared down at the top of Loki’s head. Despite his disbelief and wary elation, he could not help feeling something was amiss.

He searched their reflection in the mirror and his gaze trailed down to the pale hands Loki had clasped in his lap.

Anger stirred in him, slow and curling.

“What the fuck did you do, Loki?”

“I took the shakes away,” Loki said coolly.

“Give them back," he spat.

Loki's dark eyebrows furrowed, almost joining. “How else will you cut my hair?”

“I will cut more than your hair if you do not undo this right now.”

“Whatever is the matter, Stephen?” Loki stared at him through the mirror, mildly perplexed. “I thought you would be delighted now that the tremor’s stopped?”

“Not when you’ve taken it onto yourself!”

“For Norns’ sake, Stephen, calm the Hel down,” Loki said irritably. “It’s not like it’s permanent.”

“What?”

“It’s a temporary transference spell,” Loki sighed. “I could not possibly steal something that was destined to stay with you for the rest of your life, no matter how powerful I am, no matter how much I want to.”

Stephen stared at Loki’s hands, now shaking involuntarily in his lap. “Loki?”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t ever do something like that again. Ever.”

The light in Loki’s eyes dimmed.

Perhaps it was the hurt in Stephen’s eyes, or the sudden transition from disbelief to delight to anger and finally to utter devastation that made Loki realise that perhaps he should have kept his quirky whims to himself next time –

“I’m sorry, Stephen.”

Stephen pursed his lips and gazed at his insufferable partner for a long time.

Finally, he conjured a pair of scissors out of thin air. “You’re crazy, you know that.”

“Uh, yeah, you told me that like, last night.”

Carefully pointing the blades away from Loki’s neck, Stephen laid his hands on his lover’s shoulders gently.

He could not keep it to himself anymore. The anxiety would drive him mad.

He had felt it as Loki thrashed in dreams he could not escape from, in the way Loki had to take his shower hot for he could not seem to take the cold as well as he normally could, the slow-healing wound on his chest…and in the subtle difference in Loki’s energy signature when he pulled the stunt with his hands, the final nail in the coffin.

“Your seidr is greatly weakened, Loki.”

The light dimmed further from Loki’s eyes. “I know.”

“Is it the poison?”

Loki did not answer.

Stephen inhaled deeply. “What do you need?”

Loki slowly dropped his head to his chest, suddenly looking every inch his fifteen hundred years of life in spite of his unlined, youthful face. “I need Thor.”

___________________________

“Have you done this before?”

“Once.” Loki was quick.

“Many times.” Thor was just as quick.

Loki glared at Thor.

“There was this one time little Loki was so into ornithology that he tracked a bird-of-paradise deep into the forbidden forests on the outskirts of Asgard –”

“It was a magical Paradisaea and it had not been sighted in the Nine Realms for the last thousand years!”

“And for good reason too, they were extinct,” Thor growled. “He fell into a trap meant for _him_ and we only found him after five days.”

“Thor,” Loki growled back.

“We were what, sixteen, eighteen, at the time?”

“Thor, stop it.” Loki covered his ears, his face turning red.

“But yes, I suspect my Brother here decided to wait for a week instead of coming to me because he is just too proud and stubborn and idiotic and would rather suffer than admit he needed help!”

“Excuse me?” Loki hissed. “Forgive me _, Your Majesty,_ shall I remind us all who is the bigger idiot of the two of us?”

“Out of everybody I thought you would be the one to understand, Loki –”

“Well, clearly I don’t understand because after all we have been through, after all I have _done_ , how could you just throw it all away like that?”

Stephen cleared his throat loudly. “Well, clearly, _I_ am missing a big chunk of the story here but let’s just put it all aside for now, shall we?”

Then his eyes narrowed. “Although I do have a question for you, Loki. If you knew Thor could help you, why didn’t you say something earlier?”

Loki remained stubbornly quiet.  

Thor sighed. He looked at his brother as if seeking for permission to speak but Loki pointedly avoided his gaze.

“Because the process is very painful for him without a…” Thor searched for the right word, “Dampener? My seidr isn’t exactly…you know, gentle.”

Loki’s eyes dropped.

Thor's voice became quiet. “Our late Mother was our buffer.”

Stephen stared at Loki, finally figuring out at least one part of the missing puzzle. “I’m sorry you had had to wait for me, Loki.”

Loki only shrugged and lifted a sarcastic eyebrow. Stephen half-expected Loki to come back with something snarky but to his credit, Loki held his tongue.

Thor gazed at Loki warmly. “I like your new hair.” He stopped. “Or old hair. Well. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah well I wouldn’t want to walk around looking like a cactus after our bonding session, would I.”

An awkward silence suddenly befell the infirmary.

“Great.” Stephen clapped his hands. “Let’s get on with it, shall we?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tug-of-war à la Stephen and Thor continues, while the mystery deepens.

_New Asgard, way back when_

 

When the burn wound began to slowly heal right in front of their eyes, Thor could barely hold himself back from pumping even more energy through their linked hands for want of it healing even faster. It was Stephen vehemently advocating patience and extreme caution that made Thor stay his other hand from joining its fellow in clasping Loki’s palm.

“We wouldn’t want to give too much, too fast, lest we electrocute him in our fervour,” Stephen had said, his hand firmly pressed to the sleeping Loki’s forehead to ease Thor’s seidr in throughout the entire process.

The sun had slanted to the west a few degrees shy off high noon when the procedure was finally complete.

Thor watched as the human sorcerer laid a hand on his brother’s sternum, careful to avoid the demarcations where the Rune of Deflection was once carved into Loki’s chest. He did not need skin-to-skin contact to tell him that his brother’s magic was back to its full strength; it was radiating off Loki in waves.

Thor suspected Stephen could sense it too but it was not his place to deny the sorcerer the comfort and reassurance he was likely seeking from physical touch.

“I think it worked.” The familiar thrumming of Loki’s seidr stirring under his palm was comforting, as was the flush of colour now returned to his cheeks, and the warmth to his extremities.

He then reached for Loki’s wrist. Once satisfied with the steady beating of his pulse, Stephen placed Loki’s hand back on his stomach.

“Thank you,” Thor said grimly, his gaze still fixed on his brother. Stephen did not miss the shadows in his eyes.

He nodded in quiet acknowledgment. “We should let him sleep it off for an hour or two.”

Thor gazed at him knowingly. “Shall we begin then?”

________________________

“What has Loki told you?” Thor poured himself a drink from one of the pitchers on the drinks trolley.

“Not much.” Thor turned sideways slightly, tipping the bottle in his direction in an offering gesture. Stephen shook his head in as much refusal as dissatisfaction as evidenced by his next choice of words. “He has not been very forthcoming.”

“No surprise there. It has been quite an eventful week.” Meeting Stephen’s questioning gaze, Thor gave a small grimace. “I am not even sure where to start.”

“Breaking it down into pieces might help.” Stephen interlaced his fingers over his lap as he leaned in his seat. “For starters, what the hell is going on?”

“Almost a week ago to this day, someone had attempted to assassinate Loki by means of an unidentified poison in his food at dinner. It caused severe gastrointestinal bleeding that our Healers managed to stop in time before he exsanguinated.”

“If you could not identify the poison, how did you administer the antidote?”

“There was no antidote,” Thor said tersely. “Loki is lucky to be alive. And he was lucky to be able to heal himself with his magic while we kept the blood transfusion going.”

“No wonder he was so tapped out.” Stephen covered his face with his hands. “And the blood magic he used to counteract the attack on the nursery would have drained him further.”

He pried his hands away from his face and levelled Thor with an accusing glare.

“Why was I not told about any of this?” Stephen demanded. “Did you not think I had the right to know?”

“I think you have every right,” Thor said softly.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Loki begged us not to.”

“Tell me, Your Majesty, am I so low in your hierarchy of security clearance that you could not do me the courtesy of ignoring your brother’s hysterical demands?”

“It’s really nothing as complicated as that.” Thor looked at him in mild irritation. “He simply did not want you to worry.”

“This is not a skinned knee we are talking about, Thor!” Stephen seethed, wringing his hands, unconsciously wishing it was Loki’s neck instead. “He could have died!”

“Yes, thank you for stating the obvious, Strange, I was _there!_ ” Thor banged his fist down onto the table. “All that blood just…pouring out of him.”

“All the more reason why I should have been summoned!”

As if he was not listening, Thor’s eyes took on a glazed look.

“You did not hear him scream.” His face blanched at the memory. “He begged for death, he was in so much pain.”

Stephen unclasped his hands abruptly, his fingers suddenly gone cold.

“And he begged for you.”

Stephen lost all capacity to breathe, let alone speak. “Then _why –”_

“He begged for you, and in the same breath, made us swear upon the Norns not to call you.”

 _“Why,_ Thor?” Stephen cried out in anguish.

“For Norns’ sake Stephen, he did not want you to have to choose!” Thor’s voice boomed.

“What?”

“I may not have agreed with Loki at the time but I understand why he did it! If we had called, and you did not come – ”

“You Odinsons sure _love_ to make decisions for me,” Stephen spat. Fury roused in him like a wildfire. “Who do you think you are? Who do you think I am?”

“You are the Sorcerer Supreme! If it comes, no, _when_ it comes to you choosing between this Earth and him,” suddenly Thor was in his face, “- and you don’t choose _him_ , it will destroy him completely and utterly! Can you not see that?”

“That’s not how love works!”

“No, Stephen,” Thor admitted as much. “That is how duty does.”

He finally sank into his great armchair. “That is why I agreed to all this finding a wife nonsense, for I have decided to abandon my foolish and selfish whims, and keep my crown. If only to protect my brother and my dearest nephew for a while longer.”

“Why were they in danger in the first place?”

Thor studied an invisible fleck of dust on his desk for a few long seconds.

“I…had wanted to abdicate.”

_“What?”_

“I had my reasons, of course.” Thor avoided his eyes. “Despite his express disapproval, Loki…understood. Deep down. I think.”

“You _think?”_ Stephen stared at him, flabbergasted.

“Loki had been invaluable to me the first few years of our settling on your earth, Strange. You have been too. Without him, without you and without the help of our friends, New Asgard would not be prospering as it is now,” Thor said wistfully. “We are now a self-sustaining economy, and the monarchy presently is the most stable form of government Asgard has seen since the days of our grandfather King Bor, and Buri before him.”

“We are at peace. There are no immediate threats from this realm or beyond, and most importantly,” Thor hesitated, before smiling gently in the end. “Most importantly, my brother and I are no longer at war with each other. I could not ask for more.”

Thor rose from his chair. He walked over to the French windows, the rays of sun detailing his silhouette across the mother-of pearl tiles.

“But I do not believe this is everything I have to offer Asgard. I wish to travel, search the galaxies, reconnect with our former allies…” He turned his head slightly. “Did you know we have blood relatives in Vanaheim? That is where our Mother was from.”

He whispered, more to himself than anyone else. “I wish to return Asgard to the Nine Realms where it belongs.”

Stephen walked over to where Thor was standing. He looked out across the horizon. The sea was calm today. And yet, “You wish to return to the stars.”

“I can finally see it, Stephen.” Thor lifted his chin. “I can finally see him. Thanks to you, I have my brother back. Loki has proven his worth, he deserves the throne for no one is more fit for it than him.”

“It is time to give what Loki has always wanted.”

“Thor…” Stephen shook his head in disbelief. “Even I know that that is not what Loki wants.”

“You don’t know Loki as well as I do.” The steely look in Thor’s eyes dared him to say otherwise.

“Oh, on this matter I definitely do,” Stephen said, a tad more bitterly than he intended. “You are the only reason why Loki stays.”

“Stays where? Here?”

“Stays here, by your side, wherever you are.” Stephen flicked his wrist. “Stays alive.”

His thundering heart may be sealed away in his ribcage, but there was no such restraint to hold his tongue. “You are the third person in our relationship.”

“Stephen, you are not speaking sense.”

“You remember when Mordo attacked Loki the first time in Greenwich Village? You were so upset you ordered his immediate return to Asgard.”

Thor turned to him.

“Did you know Loki had wanted to stay in New York with me?”

Thor’s forehead furrowed.

“It’s true. Mordo hit him with a nasty spell in the attack, and I urged him to stay for a few days so I could heal him and he could recuperate but he refused."

Stephen hid his balled fists at the small of his back under the cover of his Cloak. "Said he would not go against your explicit orders because you were his King, and he would not jeopardise your rule just because he was your brother.”

Thor reared his head, appalled. “You should have told me.”

“Loki said not to.” Stephen snorted at the irony. “Guess we are _all_ idiots.”

Thor stared. “Guess we are.”

“I will not fight you for him, Thor.” Stephen shook his head. “I fear I would not win. It is not my place. It is not my time.”

“Do you know just how alike you and Loki are?” Thor said, clearly frustrated. “You are both too afraid to fight for each other.”

“How can I win when you have his life tethered to yours?” Stephen asked softly.

Thor’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Please explain, Strange. I do not understand you humans, sometimes. You and your innuendos.”

“He told me of the pact you two made.” There was a sudden stinging, gritty sensation in Stephen's eyes. That, and the hollow pit in his stomach felt too much like the biting bitterness of betrayal to be anything else. “That one shall not die before the other, or something to that effect.”

Thor was silent for a long time.

“If you had witnessed his deaths as many times as I…you would not begrudge us that.” Thor shook his head. Then he sniffed derisively. “It’s a silly pact, isn’t it. He’s already tried to break it just last week.”

Stephen laughed bitterly. “It’s the sentiment that counts, really.”

“You made a child together, Stephen. You love him, and he loves you. There is no stronger sentiment than that.”

Stephen’s vision blurred amidst the sudden watering. The sun must be getting into his eyes.

He turned to walk back to his chair, leaving Thor standing alone at the windows.

“So, what did you do? He was well enough that evening when we all went back to Asgard together?”

Stephen blinked a few times before answering. “He shifted his form, turned Jotunn. Expelled the residue from his body with his Ice Magic.”

“Ah.” Thor smiled. “Typical Loki. Always a trick up his sleeves.”

Stephen straightened in his chair. “Which reminds me.”

“Your people have accepted Loki as the heir to the throne of Asgard for centuries. Even after they found out about his true parentage, there has never been unrest of this kind, has there?”  Stephen leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, his chin in atop his clasped palms. “Why now?”

“I suspect it is because I was never expected to outlive my brother in the first place.” A crisp, clear voice interrupted their argument.

“Loki!” Thor dropped his glass on the table and marched to where Loki stood, hanging onto the frame of the door. “What are you doing up? You should not be.”

“I am rested, Brother. Thank you.” Loki gently pushed away Thor’s supporting hand and walked, albeit a little unsteadily, toward an empty chair at Thor’s massive writing table, the farthest away from Stephen.

He took Thor’s unfinished drink and drained it all in one gulp, grimacing in distaste before putting the glass down again. “Going back to your question, Doctor – ”

“For the longest time, before and after the fall of Asgard, I was the second prince.” He took a deep breath. “I was just that. A spare.”

His voice was quiet. “Then Stian was born.”

Thor crossed his arms. “I will not have you speak of my nephew’s birth as a curse instead of the blessing that it was.”

“They have only just gotten used to the idea of me, their fallen prince, usurping the throne from their Golden King one day.” Loki stared at him incredulously. “But then you, giving your crown away? And suddenly forcing this unworthy Jotunn and his half-breed down their throat? How did you expect them to react?”

“No one has ever said that about you or your son, Loki.”

“They don’t need to,” Loki snapped. “I only needed to look at their faces after you made your grand announcement.”

“But it is no matter now, is it?” Thor implored. “I have rescinded my abdication.”

“How do we know if Loki and Stian are truly out of danger?”

Loki finally looked at Stephen, the look in his piercing green eyes and its message as clear as crystal. _Do not mention New York._

Another question that had been bugging him, “How are we even sure that that was the reason why you were poisoned and Stian attacked?”

“It happened right after Thor announced he was relinquishing the throne and both attempted murders happened on the same night?” Loki rubbed his chest unconsciously.

“So, you just assumed?”

“I don’t know, Strange. I was too busy trying not to die remember?” Loki closed his eyes at the memory. “Doing it two times over in the same night does things to your mental faculties.”

“No arrest has been made so I assume the perpetrator has not been found.” Stephen could not contain his suspicion. “Who is the head of your Intelligence responsible for investigating the assassination attempt?”

Thor named one of the Generals and Stephen recognised the name as the high-ranking officer Loki had surreptitiously nodded to during the ball.

“I wish to have a word with him.”

“By all means, do,” Thor urged.

______________________________

_Manhattan, New York_

 

“This sample was taken from the pot used to cook the soup.”

“That’s why you should never order soup when eating out. Soup is evil.”

“Thank you for the public service announcement neither of us asked for, Stark,” Stephen said distractedly as he rummaged through the cooler box before producing another vial. “And here is the sample from the water Loki was drinking.”

“Where is the sample from the bowl he was actually eating from?”

“Knocked over in the commotion, spilled the whole thing. Scullery maid washed it by mistake.”

Tony snorted. “That’s convenient.”

“Well, I’d better get to work then. I’ll run the samples through the PCR machine for presence of pathogens.” Bruce scrutinised the vials. “Think that’s enough for DNA barcoding, as well?”

“We’ll have to make it enough.” Tony said seriously. “My database rivals any research universities, easy. If there’s any plastidial or nuclear markers of any toxin known to man to be found, plant or animal in origin, we will find it.”

Stephen quietly handed over another specimen bottle. It was filled with blood. “Loki’s gastric contents.”

“How much did they aspirate?” Bruce simply had to ask, looking pale of all a sudden.

“No need to.” Stephen’s voice was quiet. “Plenty on the floor where that came from.”

Tony and Bruce stared at him, their faces varying degrees of stunned.

Stephen’s smile was tight and utterly humourless. “Goodness. It’s so easy to pull your legs.”

Bruce shook his head. “Sometimes you are terrifying.”

“The stomach contents may take a while to study, it can be quite tedious unless there are residuals showing distinctive taxonomic elements left…the gastric acid usually beats us to it.”

“You are two of the most brilliant minds we have on this side of the planet. If we come up empty then we come up empty.” Stephen was antsy. He did not like the idea of leaving Asgard too long. He made a mental note to talk Loki into joining him in New York. Sweettalk him to death, if needed.

“So that’s Bruce’s gift.”

Feeling his chest swell with pride at the rare compliment, Tony clawed the air with his outstretched hand. He was not going to let his friend down.

“Where’s mine? Give it over.” He looked to Bruce, “It’s a race, Big Guy.”

With his safety goggles secured tightly around his head and already immersed in his work, Bruce just shooed him away, gathering his needed pipettes, beakers, test tubes and whatnot.

Tony swiped the flash drive out of Stephen’s hand and swept out of the room like the wind. “Come on, Doctor. Clock’s ticking.”

__________________________________

“The missing footage is between 21:45 and 21:55. A full ten minutes wiped from the security video.” Stephen crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “It's as if it never existed.”

“You work your magic, Strange, and I’ll work mine.” Tony’s fingers danced over the console, as the hologram in front of them played out the scene from that night. There were several cameras directly covering the front of the Dining Hall that offered unobstructed views of the front, sides and from behind the High Table.

They watched as Thor and Loki walked into the Dining Hall, followed by a retinue of courtiers, their collective faces tense and drawn.

“Bad day at the office?”

“Long story,” Stephen murmured.

“Ooh. I love me some medieval court drama.” Tony fast-forwarded the video. “I’ve been left wanting. Nothing good on TV since The Tudors.”

“Stark,” Stephen growled, clearly not in the mood.

He must have watched this a hundred times. Thor and Loki were having an argument. Stephen could tell from the way Thor kept trying to draw Loki into conversation who was clearly refusing to reciprocate, only staring right ahead and occasionally rubbing his temples as if massaging a tension headache.

“Who’s that?” Tony pointed at a fine-looking young man who stepped forward as Loki beckoned him over. “Cute mole too. Kinda looks like Peter’s before the kid got it removed.”

Stephen was impressed, both at Tony’s power of observation and perfect eyesight. “That’s Einar, Loki’s sort-of valet.”

Einar bent down as Loki seemed to be saying something in his ear, his long fingers gesturing to form a small, joined circle.

“You any good at Charades, Doctor?” Tony asked lightly.

“He was asking the kitchen to prepare him something light, and to make it small.” The back of Stephen’s throat burned. “He wanted to finish up quick so he could see to our son.”

Tony inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry, man.”

Stephen nodded but did not say anything further. His eyes still burned.

“This Einar guy. You cleared him?”

Stephen nodded. “He’s been with Loki for ages. Has no idea how it happened. Wouldn’t stop blaming himself though.”

“Isn’t the bad guy always the one right under your nose?”

“I doubt the bad guy would stick around for very long once he’s done what he’d set out to do. He hasn’t left Loki’s side since.” Stephen straightened and sighed; as expected, the hologram froze on the image of Thor picking up the pitcher of wine on his far right.

Tony worked his magic fingers furiously on the console, “Just gimme a sec…no, a minute actually…wait. Maybe a minute and a half…”

It took the genius billionaire all of ninety seconds to recover the missing minutes. “- and showtime!”

Tony spread the hologram wider, enlarging the frame and increasing the definition.

Stephen pushed himself off the wall and propelled himself forward, his heart pounding in his chest.

They watched as Thor poured himself a glass of wine and offered to do the same for Loki, receiving only a one-eyed glare for his effort. Loki was once again massaging one side of his forehead; Stephen recognised the signs – it was either a tension or a hunger headache, possibly both.

Einar returned to the table bearing a tray, off which he lifted a small wooden bowl that he then placed in front of Loki.

Stephen could see Loki recoil slightly as if taken aback, most likely by the sudden strong smell of chowder. He watched in heavy trepidation when Loki visibly took a deep breath as if strengthening his resolve, and started to eat slowly.

“If this was a movie this would be the part where I’d holler my head off if that could get him to stop eating,” Tony said, in an awkward gesture of moral support.

“Thanks, Stark.” Stephen forcefully glued his eyes to the hologram.

He must not look away. He must not blink.

The poison acted fast. All of a sudden, Loki dropped his spoon, his face as still as marble. Thor peered at him, even touched him on the shoulder the very moment Loki’s hand grabbed at his throat, the other grappling for the edge of the table.

His face twisted in a grotesque mask of pain, Loki then doubled over, and started to slide down toward the floor. There was a flash of silver as the Valkyrie flew across the dais to catch Loki’s head as he collapsed, his body bucking as gouts of blood spewed from his lips, spilling down the sides of his face and running down his chest.

“Fuck.” Tony whispered.

Stephen could not speak. He watched through vision suddenly reddened by grief and helplessness as Thor and Valkyrie wrested Loki’s convulsing body onto his side, which had been the right thing to do, but the sight of blood spurting out of Loki’s mouth and nose, spraying the wooden floor as if someone had spilled a bucket of paint filled Stephen with so much _fury_ he could not breathe.

It took Loki an agonising few minutes before his body went slack and he finally succumbed to unconsciousness. Thor picked him up off the floor like a ragdoll and disappeared from view as he dashed out of the hall and off camera.

“Well.” Tony cleared his throat. “At least now we have a suspect.”

Stephen stared at him, feeling slightly light-headed himself. His adrenaline had sent his body into overdrive and he had still quite a ways to go before he could still his racing heart – “What?”

“The Einar that splashed the cream into the soup?” With a sleight of his fingers, Tony brought up just the frame he wanted to highlight, “Is not your Einar.”

Stephen watched the selected footage again frame by frame, “How can you tell?”

“The mole. Your guy has his on the right side of the chin.” Tony pointed. “Look at him _now_.”

The Einar on the screen smiled sweetly at Loki, proffering the unsuspecting Prince a small pitcher of milk or cream.

Tony was right. The mole was now on the left side of the chin.

How could Stephen have missed that?

“A shapeshifter,” he whispered sickly.

“Or Tom Cruise.”

At Stephen’s furious glare,

"Ethan Hunt? Mission Impossible?” Tony lifted his eyebrows. “No? Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are two parallel storylines going on in this installment. For all intents and purposes, it is purposely done and I promise it will (hopefully) make sense in the end. I hope my erratic and haphazard style of writing isn't confusing anyone. Thanks again for reading and the kudoses and the comments. Love them to bits~


	11. Have Faith Dear Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uncertainties loom ahead, and Stephen and Loki need to hold fast and keep fighting fit.

_New York, Present Time_

 

“Stephen. Over here.” Dr Christine Palmer beckoned from the end of a warmly-lit hallway. At the sight of her, Stephen quickened his pace, tightening his hold on Loki’s hand as he manoeuvred their way through the throng of patients, all awaiting consultation.

“Christine.” Stephen gave her a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Busy clinic day, today huh.”

“You know what they say about the healthcare business. The clients never stop coming.” Christine looked over Stephen’s shoulder where Loki was standing a few steps away.

She broke into a sunny smile. “Loki. You look well.”

Christine looked genuinely pleased to see them and Loki’s initial apprehension melted away like snow. It certainly helped that she had quickly whisked them away to her private office, away from the roaming eyes of strangers in the crowded waiting room outside.

Loki grasped her outstretched fingers and squeezed them warmly. “I feel well. How are you, Dr Palmer?”

“Same old, same old,” she said breezily. Instead of the scrubs they were used to seeing her in, she was dressed in an exquisitely-tailored pantsuit and had her hair up in a tidy bun, looking every inch the polished yet sassy Head of the Surgical Department of one of the biggest hospitals in Manhattan. “Still alive and kicking.”

“Must be doing well.” Stephen looked around. “Nice office. A bit poshy for you, but I see the appeal.”

“Some people join the cult and still keep their fast cars, Stephen.” Christine turned to Loki. “You should have seen his Lamborghini collection. It was _obscene_.”

“Who needs cars when you can teleport,” Stephen countered coolly. “How’s the little one doing?”

“Emma’s fantastic. She’s two.” At Loki’s knowingly sceptical look, she relented and confessed. “She’s a nightmare.”

“She’s beautiful.” Loki fingered the picture frame on her desk.

She rolled her eyes. “A beautiful nightmare, then.”

“Stian not with you?” Hoping against hope, she craned her neck and peered around the two of them just in case her godson was hiding somewhere behind his parents, all invisible and waiting for the right moment to pop up.

With a crestfallen look on her face, “What ever happened to ‘Of course I would bring him over for a visit sometime!’ huh?”

“Sorry.” At the wave of her hand, Stephen sank into one of the rather expensive-looking leather armchairs at the coffee table. “Thor’s taken him on a trip to Geneva to attend one of those super-important world summit things. Stian wanted to see snow.”

“I can make snow.” Clearly Loki was still sore about the idea of being apart from their son.

“Real snow, Loki.”

“I’ll drop a giant snowman on your head and you can tell me again if my snow is real or no.”

“I’m sure you can conjure the actual Swiss Alps out of thin air if you put your mind to it, darling.” Stephen rolled his eyes and explained to Christine sheepishly, “Thor’s taking Stian to Chamonix Mont-Blanc after the summit to teach him how to ski. Loki’s jealous.”

“I am not jealous. I’m just pregnant and my dear husband here somehow automatically translates that to ‘invalid’.”

“They don’t even let pregnant women onto baby rollercoasters, you think they’d let you anywhere near the slopes?”

“Yeah but according to you and your friends I don’t even look pregnant, do I?”

That ceased all arguments, for of course Loki always had to have the last word.

Loki lifted his chin triumphantly. “So effectively they won’t know.”

Still not over, apparently.

“But you will,” Stephen said quietly.

Loki’s face instantly fell. “That’s just…dirty, Stephen.”

“Yes, it is.” Christine glared at her former colleague and not-boyfriend. She gently pulled on Loki’s elbow. “Come on, honey, let’s leave him and get you sorted.”

____________________________

“I have to warn you, there will be a lot of jargon flying around, Loki.” Christine gently lifted Loki’s shirt to expose his abdomen before covering him from the groin down with a crisp, white drape. “If at any point you feel like I’m going too fast or you need me to clarify something for you, please do stop me, alright?”

“See? Do you see the kind of doctor she is? If you were a bit more like her, there’d be no stabbing required, would there?”

“Stabbing?” Christine’s hand froze around the probe, her face drained of all colour. “There’s going to be stabbing?”

“No. No stabbing, Christine.” In an instant, venom turned into honey. With a magic touch on her wrist, Loki smiled sweetly. “There will never be stabbing when it’s you.”

“Loki,” Stephen gave a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head. “He’s just nervous.”

“Am I?” Loki said softly. “Or are you?”

Christine stared at him, turned to look at Stephen, before finally settling her gaze on her patient. “Do you not want him here, Loki? I can send him away.”

Stephen started to say something in protest but he recognised the look in Loki’s eyes. It was the same glazed look Loki had five years ago before he went under the knife, putting his and their unborn son’s lives in Christine’s hands and not knowing if he would make it - without a word, Stephen claimed his place on the other side of Loki’s bed and reached down for Loki’s hand.

“I’m not leaving,” he said quietly. It took him a few seconds but Loki finally curled his own fingers around his, every drop of tension melting away.

“Do forgive the interruption, Dr Palmer.” Visibly much more relaxed now, Loki sank his head deeper into the small pillow. “I’m all yours.”

The new few minutes were spent in silence as Christine skilfully manoeuvred the probe all over Loki’s abdomen with one hand, clicking and documenting her measurements on the console panel with the other.

“Would you like to see her?”

“What do you mean? I am seeing her, am I not?” Loki had not been able to tear his eyes away from the screen since the first images of his daughter came on.

“Do you want to see her face, in real-time?” Christine sounded even more excited than the expectant parents. “This is a 4D ultrasound machine.”

“Do we?” Loki looked to Stephen, his excitement getting the better of him, and before Stephen could even respond – “Yes, yes, we do.”

But when Christine brought up the images onto the screen,

“I can’t look.” Loki closed his eyes.

Christine chuckled.

“Stephen, are you seeing it?” Loki asked urgently, still refusing to open his eyes. “What does she look like? Does she look okay?”

Stephen did not answer.

“Stephen!” Loki could not take it anymore. “Why won’t you – _Oh_.”

The sight of their unborn daughter in 3D, not only in colour (digitised of course, but no less astounding) but in real time, sent his stomach lurching. “That’s –”

Mesmerised, Loki’s mouth worked to form words but his throat had suddenly gone as dry as sandpaper. Despite the surrealness of it all, suddenly it was so real. All those months spent in a haze of constant pain, desperate for a cure, yet sticking to his guns that their daughter _deserved_ to live –

_And here she is._

“I’ve counted her fingers and toes. All twenty of them, no more no less.” Christine’s smile was soft and gentle. “Very cute nose too. And would you look at that high forehead, and all that hair! Sorry, Stephen, I think Loki wins the round this time too.”

“My perfect little girl.” Loki’s eyes watered.

Suddenly someone’s lips were kissing him on the forehead, hard and all rough-stubbled. “ _Our_ perfect little girl.”

“Oh sorry, you’re still here? I thought you’d gone and fl –” And those lips smothered his, effectively shutting him up as Christine erupted in peals of laughter.

____________________________

Despite his initial protests, Loki finally relented and agreed to have his bloods taken and soon Stephen and Christine found themselves standing in the hallway outside the procedure room. Christine wasted no time in breaking the bad news.

“I have looked over the scans your friend Dr Banner had sent over, and I'm afraid the baby _is_ showing signs of growth restriction, Stephen. My husband is of the same opinion,” Christine murmured, referring to her OB-GYN spouse. “I hope you don’t mind my discussing the case with him? Patient confidentiality protected, of course.”

“By all means.” Stephen frowned. “What does he think is causing it?”

“Maternal illness may have been the initial insult but usually once the illness has passed, a healthy foetus would more or less catch up.” She nodded at a passing nurse as she pushed an elderly patient in a wheelchair.

“The thing is, the femur length and the abdominal circumference measurements are consistently smaller than the measurements of the head throughout all the scans.”

Stephen searched his memory for the significance behind the findings and when he found it, his face instantly fell. “Asymmetrical intrauterine growth restriction?”

Christine nodded. “The baby’s not getting enough nutrition, so whatever she’s getting, it’s all going to the brain, being the most important organ as you well know.”

She crossed her arms, looking glum. “Placental insufficiency would be my working diagnosis.”

“That would explain the calcifications,” Stephen recalled. The shadow over his face darkened. “Why is the placenta failing?”

Christine looked worried. “Loki is steadily gaining weight, as he should…but the baby’s size does not seem to correspond to the amount of maternal weight gain at all.”

“He barely eats enough for one as it is, so I don’t actually know where the extra weight is coming from.”

“I think it’s water retention. Have you seen how swollen his legs are?”

“Yeah, he’s refusing the compression stockings this time around. Says he’s not wearing them if he doesn’t need them.” Stephen narrowed his eyes. “Wait. You don’t think -?”

“Preeclampsia is the most common cause of placental insufficiency, Stephen.”

“ _Damn it.”_ Stephen cursed under his breath. “Are you sure?”

“His blood pressure’s stable so far but you really have to keep an eye on it.” Christine leaned against the wall, crossing her ankles. “The clinical picture fits. If I’m right, the third trimester will be a whole different ball game."

She hesitated, "We have to be ready for another Caesarean, Stephen.”

“Please, Christine. One thing at a time.” Stephen closed his eyes and thumped the back of his head against the wall.

“I don’t know about aliens, but human women still do die from eclampsia from time to time, you know,” she went on. “Just last month, Jack had a lady go into a fit in his office in the middle of antenatal clinic. Sent her to the OT, saved her baby, but she stroked on the operating table and died.”

“There was a massive internal inquiry, but good thing he did everything by the book or he would have lost his license.” She shuddered at the memory. “Maternal mortality is such a rarity but when it happens, it’s just devastating.”

Stephen slowly dropped his head to his chest, his shoulders seeming to sag under the weight of his Cloak. “This isn’t bloody happening.”

Christine studied his dejected profile. “You will not let him see you like this, Stephen.”

He shook his head. “Just one damn thing after another.”

“If it isn’t worth fighting for, it isn’t worth having.” Christine walked over and gripped his biceps hard. “Loki is fighting. Now are you gonna fight, or you gonna moan and groan like a yob with kidney stones? Get it together, Dr Strange.”

“Now _smile_ because here he comes,” Christine murmured through gritted teeth.

Stephen took a deep breath, and as Loki strode out of the procedure room, he was smiling. “That wasn’t so bad, was it, darling?” he asked breezily.

Loki rolled down the sleeves of his white shirt and fastened his cuff links. “No, but you might want to check on your phlebotomist,” he said coolly. “I think he might require some sort of emergency resuscitation.”

“No…” Christine’s high heels click-clacked across the linoleum floor as she hurried past them. Loki closed the door behind her and waved a hand over the knob.

“Loki…”

“He called me a little prick.”

“That was a warning shot, Loki, not an insult! What the hell did you d –”

“Relax.” Loki crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the wall. “So. Anything you’d like to share with me?”

____________________________

_New Asgard_

 

It was a silent midnight in Asgard and not a sound to be heard, except for the faint ticking of the antique clock on the wall and the occasional crashing of exceptionally big waves hitting the cliffs in the distant.  

“It really is quiet without Stian around.”

“You won’t be saying that once the new baby comes.” Stephen murmured, smiling wistfully in the dark.

Loki said nothing further.

Stephen closed his eyes and let himself drift; he was quite tired after the long day they had. Instead of coming straight home from the hospital, Loki had insisted they walk around the city; he seemed to have worked up an appetite after seeing Christine, buying from every food truck they walked past and devouring almost everything in sight.

Stephen had no idea how Thor could keep up with Loki’s food trail frenzy for weeks on end when he was pregnant with Stian. Stephen had only been on it for one day and he was _knackered_.

But something at the back of his half-asleep mind was keeping him in limbo somewhere between deep sleep and semi-awake.

The bed was shuddering.

_An earthquake?_

His eyes flew open.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he waited to see if it would happen again.

There it was again, a subtle ripple across the featherbed.

“Loki?”

A muffled sound. Like the sound of a pillow stifling someone’s face –

“Loki, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.”

“There are two types of ‘it’s nothing’, Loki, and I need to know which one it is so I can decide whether I should go back to sleep, or to hold you and kiss you and apologise even when I have no clue what it is I might have done wrong.”

Stephen scooted closer, not quite touching but close enough for the warmth of his body to remind Loki that he was there, and ever present. “Which is it?”

After a painfully long moment of silence, Loki removed the pillow from his face, answered quietly. “The latter.”

Stephen snaked an arm around Loki’s upper torso to oblige, and frowned in alarm. “Why are you shaking?”

“Are you feeling alright?” He pushed himself onto an elbow, the hand on Loki’s chest now sliding downward to cup the swell of Loki’s belly. “Is something wrong with the baby?”

A single tear brokered an escape as Loki squeezed his eyes shut. “There’s something wrong with _me.”_

“Loki, you’re worrying me.” Stephen sat up and reached over Loki’s shaking body to turn on the bedside lamp.

“I worry me, too,” Loki said quietly. “I worry for our daughter.”

“I knew a smooth-sailing pregnancy would be too much to ask, but this is becoming very frustrating, Strange.” The tears were free-falling now, tracking across the bridge of his nose and seeping into the pillow. “I am just sick and tired of my body betraying me at every turn.”

“What do you mean?” Stephen tried to maintain a calm voice. He reached to grab Loki’s shoulder and pulled him despite his initial resistance until Loki finally turned onto his other side to face him,

“I cannot even provide the sustenance that our baby needs to grow.”

Loki curled into a foetal position and his forehead thumped against Stephen’s collarbone. 

“No matter what I eat...she is _starving_.” Loki was sobbing openly now. “I am starving her, Stephen.”

He could feel Loki’s hot tears seep into his T-shirt and felt the words as Loki breathed them into his chest, “When did I become so damaged inside?”

Stephen felt his stomach lurch, and something turned his blood into ice. _No._

“Let me ask you a question, Odinson.”

He grabbed the sides of Loki’s head and pulled it away from his chest. Stephen felt sickened at the sight of the tears streaking his face. He hated seeing Loki cry.

“Have you met my son, Stian? He is the cheekiest, most intelligent, most magical, most adorable little thing this realm has ever seen,” he said fiercely. “Is he damaged?”

Loki shook his head.

“No, he’s not. Because we made him, you and I. He is perfection.”

Stephen thumbed the tears away from the sunken hollows of Loki’s eyes. 

“Name me one being on this earth that is not biologically a woman who could carry such a perfection and bring him into this world. Other than you.”

“You - are _not_ \- damaged.” Stephen punctuated every other word with a kiss, to his forehead, to his nose, to his lips – “You are the most amazing creature in my universe. You are perfect.”

“And you will be just fine.”

“Stephen, please,” Loki begged. “No more sugar-coating the truth.”

Loki was right. He deserved to know.

Stephen kept one hand pinned underneath Loki’s cheek and the other pressed against where his daughter slept. "This is just one of those things. I used to see it all the time back in the day, it can happen to anyone.” 

He caressed Loki’s belly comfortingly. “We just have to keep a closer eye on you two, that’s all.”

“So, it is true then, what you said?” Loki asked quietly. “That I might not be able to birth our baby normally this time around too?”

Stephen’s hand stilled, but did not leave the comfort of having his daughter stirring just underneath his palm. “You weren’t supposed to hear that. Not yet.”

“I happen to have very good hearing. And a very fragile ego.” Loki gave him a watery smile. “I cannot stand not knowing.”

Stephen stared at him. “Yes, it is true.”

He inhaled deeply to galvanise himself; breaking bad news to strangers was difficult enough. “In most cases, IUGR babies cannot withstand the stress of labour without going into distress, and to obviate disastrous complications, we often need to deliver them surgically.”

Disbelief warred with horror but in the end, grief prevailed; Loki’s face started to crumble again and Stephen had not even delivered the final blow. “And it might have to happen sooner than you think.”

In stunned silence, Loki could barely enunciate his words, “Even before she is ready?”

“It may be nowhere near as dramatic as it was with Stian, but it is still a high-risk pregnancy. When the scans start to show she is in trouble and that she is safer outside than inside, we will need to deliver her.” Stephen inhaled deeply. “Or risk losing her.”

“ _When_ ,” Loki whispered, aghast. Stephen’s deliberate choice of words did not escape his attention. _Not if. When._

Stephen decided to respond to it as if it was an actual question, despite not actually knowing if Loki was at all ready to hear the answer. “At as early as 28 weeks, there is more than 80 to 90% chance of survival achievable with modern medicine given the correct environment and medical facilities at our disposal.”

Loki’s head slowly dipped and he shifted his gaze downward.

He studied his husband’s hand still pressed against the curve of his abdomen. Already twenty-eight weeks and yet Stephen could still cup his hand neatly around his bump.

If Loki had not known the devastating truth behind it all, he would have even found it cute.

“I’m twenty-eight weeks now and she’s still hanging in there. That’s…good, right?”

Stephen smiled encouragingly. Loki’s tears were beginning to dry. “Very good.”

Loki laid his own hand atop Stephen’s and laced his fingers through. “Well. She might be a midget but I guess she’s our midget.”

“Midget or not, she will be perfect and we will love her all the same.” Stephen brought their linked hands to his lips and imprinted his promise with a kiss onto the back of Loki’s hand.

Loki smiled at him gratefully. “You’re not bad, Strange.”

“Aren’t you glad you married me?”

“It…has its moments.”

Stephen ran a thumb across Loki’s knuckles thoughtfully, mulling over Loki’s words in his head.

He remembered the twinkle of excitement in Loki’s eyes just two months ago when they went to the Highlands up in the Scottish Isles. He wanted to see it again. Preferably without any mountain climbing involved. 

“Let’s get away. I would advise against long-distance travel in your condition, so somewhere on this Earth should be fine. Somewhere _flat_.” 

Stephen smiled at the sudden wrinkling of Loki's nose. _You and your mountains._

“How does a staycation sound?”

“Not New York again.” Loki sniffed.

The smile turned into a chuckle. “No. I guess not. I was thinking about London.”

Loki stared at him. “How is it a vacation when you have to work?”

Stephen grimaced slightly. “There’s no fooling you, huh.” Then his eyes softened, “Just a few things that need seeing to and then I’m all yours, Loki.”

“Besides you’ll love the London Sanctum. It’s got charm.” Stephen reached out to brush a stray lock of hair our of Loki’s eye. “ – and character – ” he could not resist so he leaned in for a quick, chaste kiss. “And _fantastic_ tea.”

Another quick kiss.

“And scones.”

A longer one.

“And crumpets.”

“Stephen, do skip the finkydiddling and just shag me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Stephen/Loki pillow talks are my guiltiest pleasures. Hence the abuse of the word ‘perfect’. *love* 
> 
> Just some terms -  
> Preeclampsia/Eclampsia - A spectrum of hypertensive disorders (high blood pressure) in pregnancy, the most feared complication being eclampsia or seizures. (Fans of Downton Abbey may remember how Lady Sybil died. I cried buckets) Placental insufficiency is when there is reduced blood flow in the placenta so baby is not getting enough nutrients from the mother, causing poor growth.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	12. I've Got A Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A romantic family picnic gets rudely interrupted. Stephen and Loki share a moment, a promise, and a dream.

_New Asgard, way back when_

 

 

When the deep silence of the night was broken once more by the sudden rattling of breaths caught in a chest congested with imaginary blood and poison, and desperate arms that once grappled only empty air found themselves clinging to Stephen’s shoulders like a lifeline, Loki fought back tears of frustration, terror and sheer _relief_.

His vision blurred as his pupils fought with the white of his eyes for dominance as the pull of restless sleep warred with wakefulness. His nails dug deep into Stephen’s back as if to reaffirm his physical presence was not just a phantom.

“Stephen,” Loki gasped.

“I’m here.” He heard and felt Stephen murmur into his temple and Loki choked down a whimper, leaning into the embrace, grateful for the reprieve from his never-ending nightmare.

Was it still a nightmare if everything felt so _real?_

Stephen tightened his hold around Loki despite the sharp pain pricking the skin of his back. He could not care less if Loki had drawn blood, if that could tether him to the waking world for good. “Same dream?”

“I don’t understand.” Exhausted, Loki pressed his forehead to the base of his lover’s throat, whose Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as Stephen fought to keep the curses to himself. “I should be rid of them already.”

“Do you think it’s a spell?”

“No." Loki shook his head. "My seidr would have rooted it out if there was any. This is all me.”

He was aware of Stephen’s hand running through the short strands of his hair. “Perpetuating nightmares for reasons unbeknownst to me.”

“Your subconscious is trying to tell you something.”

“Is that the neurosurgeon in you talking?”

“The neurosurgeon, the sorcerer, your concerned lover...I am one and the same. There is no separating the psyche, Loki.”

“I am so _tired_ , Stephen.” With a heavy gust of breath, Loki let his body go limp; Stephen unconsciously tightened his hold around him. 

“Come lay back down.”

“No. It will only come back and there’s only so many times I can die in my sleep in one night before I lose it for real.”

“I’m here now, Loki.”

Stephen’s searching lips sought Loki’s in the dark, and once they were found, he locked their lips in a tender kiss. One of his arms found its way around the crook of Loki’s neck and coaxed him to lie back down. “I can help you. Let me help you.”

Loki’s eyes fluttered slowly to a close as he fought to control his breathing. His heart was still racing but Stephen pulled him in closer. As their chests met, his heartbeat began to slow as if trying to mirror Stephen’s own, steady and reassuring and _safe_.

“Do you trust me?”

Loki surprised himself when his “I do,” came without thinking nor hesitation. 

So lulled was he into the promise of a respite from another ghastly nightmare, Loki did not resist when Stephen planted a palm on his forehead, his magic warm and tranquil -

“Now _sleep.”_

___________________________________

 

“So which is it going to be?” Stephen held out two brown packages. “The reuben or the grilled haloumi and avocado on rye?”

“I’m not very hungry, Stephen. Perhaps later?” Loki implored, mounting one last-ditch effort at deflection.

Stephen shook his head. Bizarrely the Cloak seemed to give the impression it was doing the same, its lapels twitching around in a grand gesture of chastisement. “That’s what you said a few hours ago. You should know better than to bargain so carelessly with me, Loki, you know I will always hold you to your word.”

Loki wrinkled his nose and said nothing.

“I did it the Midgardian way too, you know. Lined up and everything.” Stephen tried appealing to Loki's sense of empathy, if it existed at all. He put on his best puppy dog eyes for good measure. “Please?”

Finally, Loki gave a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, Strange, you win. Since you asked so nicely.”

Stephen immediately broke into one of his rare, extra-wide smiles and Loki's stomach flipped lazily. 

He could not help feeling peculiarly warmed inside, not just at Stephen’s thoughtfulness, but at how much he looked like Stian when he grinned, down to the twinkle in his smiling eyes.

Their baby boy may have Loki’s colouring, but whatever sunny, all too human disposition Stian may have inherited, he got it all from Stephen.

Loki sniffed, not unfondly. He supposed it could have been worse.

“Stian, come away please…you’re too close to the edge.”

The Valkyrie appeared in his line of vision from seemingly out of nowhere, and walked toward the edge of the cliff. “Come on, little Prince.”

Loki momentarily lowered his green and gold shield around Stian so the Valkyrie could get close and pick him up.

“He’s a stealthy crawler, this one, our little Revenger.” She propped him up on one hip and smiled as Stian reached out to make a grab for her hair. “Do you want me to take him back to his room, Highness?”

“No, I’d rather he stay and play for a bit longer.” Loki raised his protective shield again as Brunnhilde lowered the little Prince and guided him to stand, holding onto the rock formation his parents were sitting on. “He’s just starting to cruise, let him have a feel of these rocks, it’s good for stimulating his sensory modalities, or something or other.”

Stephen raised a mildly impressed eyebrow.

Loki rolled his eyes. “You like leaving your articles and journals and parenting guides lying around. My subconscious is surely bound to read one or two in passing.”

“Yes, and my subconscious is mentally making note to tell on you if you don’t start eating one of these.” Stephen countered Loki’s death glare with a cool gaze of his own. “Tall, blond, and sparkly? Remember him?”

Loki’s glare remained steely and steady. But alas, despite his moniker as the notorious God of Lies, he was a man of his words. To Stephen’s mild surprise, he picked up one half of the haloumi sandwich. “I didn’t see you leave this morning?”

“I got up before dawn because I thought I heard Stian. Rocked him back to sleep, felt like a poor man’s breakfast, popped out to the deli and came back.” Stephen leaned back on his hands and crossed his ankles in front of him. “You were still sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Yrsa?”

“She looked half dead on her feet, so I told her to go home and rest. Roped the Valkyrie in to babysit.”

Loki only nodded. He still looked a little rough around the edges. After the bad night Loki had, Stephen had half a mind to talk him into taking a nap later; he could only hope his power of persuasion could hold out for a little bit longer.

He watched as Loki took a tentative bite and chewed half-heartedly.

“Beautiful day, the sun is out and I thought why not make it a picnic.”

“Thank you,” Loki mumbled through a mouthful of food. For such a small bite, he was sure taking his time and chewing the hell out of it. “I am touched, truly, but you needn’t have bothered, Stephen.”

“Don’t think too much on it, Loki. I wanted a sandwich so I went out and got one, that’s all,” he said lightly.

Loki smiled. He could see right through Stephen. “Yeah? So where’s your ham and rye then?”

Stephen smirked. Because two could so play at this game. “Aw. So you do remember my favourite.”

“You remembered mine first.” Loki surveyed the spread in front of him pointedly. “Down to the halving of the pastrami, the vegan seitan instead of corned beef, and the Russian dressing on the side.”

“Yeah because you’re weird like that.”

“You’re not eating?” Loki was halfway through his half of the halloumi sandwich. To Stephen’s delight, his random choice of what-new-things-Loki-hasn’t-tried-but just-might-like his Ice Prince seemed to have found agreeable and to his liking.

“This is all for you, Loki.”

Loki nodded. One hand still holding on to his sandwich, he returned the weird reuben sandwich back into the food carrier with the other. At Stephen’s frown, he said placatingly, “I’m saving it for later. I’ll reheat it and eat it for supper.”

“There’s no need. I can just pop out and get you a fresh one.” Now that Stephen knew he could get Loki to eat as long as it did not come from Asgard’s kitchens, he would just need to UberEat the hell out of his portals. Definitely no worries there.

“This will suffice, Stephen. Thank you,” Loki said gently, shaking his head. It was only when he did that that Stephen finally realised what was so different; Loki’s hair used to flap about his face in the breeze but now despite the gale blowing inward from the sea, Loki was unperturbed.

“What did Thor mean when he said he liked your old hair?”

Loki took the last, serendipitous bite of his sandwich for it meant he had an excuse to avoid answering by chewing as slowly as possible.

At long last,

“This was how I looked like,” Loki said simply with a shrug. To an untrained eye, the gesture was carelessly nonchalant, but to Stephen it was anything but, as his next words foretold. “Before I fell.”

It was too nice a day for the usual doom and gloom so Stephen did the proverbial reversing the gear to steer them both back into the happy. “It’s a good look. Why didn’t you keep it?”

“It belonged to the old me who died in the fall.” Loki looked out into the horizon. “I either kept my hair long in contempt of him, or in memory of him. It varied from moment to moment.”

“And now? How do you feel about it now?”

Loki tilted his head sideways and stared at him in mild curiosity. “How do _you_ feel about it?”

“I can’t get enough of it to be honest.” If Stephen was being truthful, he could stare at the tantalising outlines of all the muscles in Loki’s neck for hours.

“I can tell. You’ve resorted to staring, Doctor.”

“Ah, sorry.” Stephen slowly uncrossed his ankles. He righted his position on the rock until he was sitting cross-legged and facing Loki full-front. Now that he had been caught, he might as well do it openly. “Like I said, it’s a good look.”

A gentle breeze swept past them. Somewhere in the distant, Stian was laughing, squealing in delight.

“Thank you.”

Loki’s eyebrows crinkled slightly. “Whatever for?”

“For letting me see you like this,” Stephen said softly. “It’s like, you know, when some guys say they like seeing their girlfriends without make-up. It’s something like that.”

“Is that what I am? Your girlfriend?” There was no anger, no indignation in Loki’s voice. Only amusement.

“Don’t debase yourself like that. It’s unbefitting.” Stephen waved a hand in disgust. “But having said that, you do have a habit of hiding behind your many personas.”

“I have stopped wearing my glamour around you, you know that.”

“I know.” He watched as Loki unwrapped the other half of his sandwich slowly.

Unable to resist, Stephen leaned in and kissed him.

Taken aback by the sudden intrusion of personal space, Loki was too slow to turn away. “Eyes are watching, Strange.”

“Let them.” Another kiss landed on Loki’s cool, soft lips. “I want to take the layers off one by one.”

Stephen sought his lips once more, “Kiss by kiss.”

“Goodness. I can’t believe you’ve bought me at the price of a sandwich,” Loki murmured, the curve of his lips moulding into a smile against Stephen’s still searching ones.

“You bought me at much less.” He could not resist the temptation anymore. His head traveled downward until his nose was buried in the crook of Loki’s neck, where it had longed to be for the past hour. “You practically got me for free.”

Loki laughed silently, either at Stephen’s cheesy lines or the tickling sensation he knew his rough stubble was grating against the sensitive skin of Loki’s jawline he could not tell but he cared not one damn bit.

Stephen snipped at the long, white neck, breathing in Loki’s familiar, intoxicating scent. There was something about the cliff, something in the ocean-scented air, something in the magic-imbued atmosphere that was driving all impulse control into oblivion.

This was where Stephen had first said the words, was it not.

_“I love you.”_

_“I love you too.”_

The answer came right off the bat, and Stephen stilled.

Loki had automatically replied in Mindspeak without a thought, and he immediately realised his faux pax the moment Stephen ceased to breathe; the sudden absence of the warmth of breath against Loki’s neck made him draw back in horror –

“Stephen…”

“Say it again.” Stephen’s fingers were now curled around the hairs at the back of his ears as he gripped the sides of Loki’s face.

As Loki’s green eyes searched his for any sign of mockery, Stephen waited patiently for he knew there was none to find.

When it finally came, it was soft and tender. “I love you.”

A thrill coursed down Stephen’s spine for now he knew it was not just a figment of his imagination, a creation of his own mind. And maybe, just maybe, Loki could finally open up to him, for he now vowed to do the same.

“Come what may,” he whispered.

“Come what may,” Loki echoed.

That did _it_.

Stephen grabbed the back of Loki’s head and crushed his lips once more, this time staking his claim with a deep, bruising kiss, if only to match the emotions threatening to bowl him over in a sudden avalanche of passion and infatuation and pure _love_ –

“Your Highness!” “Prince Stian!”

The spell broke. Stephen’s head whipped around.

Loki gasped in horror, his hand stretched out, green tendrils of magic flickering from the ends of his fingers –

_no I’m not going to make it, it’s too late to stop_

And a flash of silver dove into their direct line of vision, obliterating all sight of their vulnerable little boy, and the arrow slammed into the back of the Valkyrie’s left shoulder

and she _screamed_.

Stephen’s shields lifted in a giant dome of golden energy enveloping them all as he ran the last twenty yards toward to where Brunnhilde was huddled over Stian who had begun to wail, Loki close behind him, his Asgardian battle armour materialising into place.

“Search the parameters.” Despite the throbbing pain burning in her shoulder, Valkyrie barked a terse order but the Einherjar were already on the move, marching off into all directions. Loki dropped onto one knee next to her, and Stian, still crying from the shock, immediately crawled into his lap.

“Oh Stian. I’m sorry, I am so, so sorry…” Loki fiercely kissed each of Stian’s cheeks in turn before crouching over his fallen friend. Worriedly, “Val!”

“The things I do for you, Lackey,” she groused, her face pale and sweaty as she tried to ride out the pain.

“Stay still,” Stephen growled. He muttered the words to a numbing spell and cupped his hands over the base of the arrow where the shaft was protruding from Brunnhilde’s armour. “This will sting a little.”

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” she gritted through her teeth. “Quickly now, there is poison.”

“One, two – ” and Stephen _yanked_. Brunnhilde bucked violently with the traction but did not scream, her whimpers of pain dampened somewhat by the anaesthesia conferred by the numbing spell.

Propping Stian against one thigh, Loki swiftly grabbed the familiar-looking golden arrow and sniffed the bloodied tip. “Venom is serpentine.” He closed his eyes as he concentrated. “Tiger snake.”

“A neurotoxin then.” Stephen searched his brains for the right spell needed to neutralise the poison. His hands began to glow with the golden hue of healing energy as they pressed firmly into the back of her shoulder. “How are you doing, Valkyrie?”

“Just peachy.” No longer on her knees for her muscles had long since stopped responding to her commands, she buried her face into the crook of her arm as the Sorcerer Supreme’s sentient magic coursed through her body, seeking out the venom drop by drop. “Tell the Einherjar to search the trees too…just…in case.”

“They won’t find anybody.” Loki’s voice was hard. “This arrow is seidr-fortified, custom-designed to break through my shield. And no physical archer shot this, it was conjured and propelled by means of magic.”

“That’s why I _hate_ magic.”

“I’m sorry, Val.” Loki’s cold hand wrapped around hers. His healing seidr too was seeking permission to enter, and despite the situation, she just had to snicker.

“This isn’t going to kill me. Would have killed the little one though.” She waved away his concern. “Could never let that happen.”

Loki’s eyes smarted. “Thank you, Valkyrie.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The pain was receding now. The weakness began to disappear and she was regaining control of her fingers, her limbs, and it was becoming much easier to breathe. This Sorcerer Supreme was _good_.

“You good?” Stephen asked once Valkyrie had climbed to her feet once more. Circumducting her left shoulder gingerly, she nodded, giving him a wan smile.

“Yeah. Good thing he didn’t get my sword arm.” She breathed out the last tail-ends of clamping tightness in her chest away. “Thanks, Fancy Man. I owe you one.”

“ _I_ owe you.” Stephen shook his head seriously. He pried Stian out of Loki’s reluctant arms and kissed the top of Stian’s head. “I owe you my life.”

“Pish posh.” She waved the awkwardness away. “Call of duty and all that crap.”

“More importantly…” She turned her eyes toward her Prince, looking grave and solemn. “This isn’t over.”

___________________________________

To say Thor was livid was an understatement. The royal council chamber was bristling with so much static electricity, everybody’s hair was standing on end.

“General Brynjulvson. Do you mean to tell me your investigation thus far has brought up naught?” He glared furiously at the elderly man sitting to his right whom he had singled out in his wrath. “Not a single inkling as to the identity of the perpetrator? The motives behind his actions?”

“Pardon me, Your Majesty for I have no defence nor valid explanation to excuse my incompetence. I beseech you, my Good King, to show me mercy and bestow upon me another chance to prove myself worthy of your trust in this matter.”

The General bowed his head. “I had attempted to extract information without recourse to violence but perhaps…a more persuasive means of questioning must be employed to procure more expedient results.”

Loki’s face was pale. “No, General. I will not allow such atrocities to take place. Not in my name.”

“Loki,” Thor said quietly.

“No, Thor.” Loki’s voice was equally soft, yet no less adamant in its conviction. “No violence. No torture. I do not condone it.”

“So what do you suggest?” Thor clasped his hands on the table. “What would you have me do, Brother? When your life and that of your son are in such peril that such bodily harm had come to you, repeatedly, right under my nose?”

_And right under yours?_

Stephen did not miss the way Thor’s eyes lingered in his direction for a fraction of a second. He cleared his throat. “Permission to speak, Majesty?”

“Proceed as you will, Doctor.” Thor unclasped his hands and opened his palms. “You have more news from our friends Stark and Banner, I presume?”

“As I have said earlier, the first attempted murder was likely done by one proficient in the ways of magic, specifically, shape-shifting which I understand is a very specialised skill that not very many sorcerers and seidr-wielders have.”

Stephen tapped his index finger soundlessly against his thigh. “Now I do not know how many magic users there are in New Asgard currently but that should narrow it down a little, General, if you so wish to renew your effort in looking for likely suspects.”

“The latest attack on the Little Prince this morning proved this theory. The arrow was imbued with magic strong enough to penetrate Prince Loki’s protective barrier,” Valkyrie quipped from where she was standing behind Thor.

As her eyes met his across the table, Stephen nodded in agreement.

Valkyrie hesitated before continuing, “Majesty, the arrow used was a standard Asgardian military issue. Our Master of the Archers has confirmed that it dates back to more than a decade ago, but one thing for certain is that we have stopped using such arrows, and we certainly have stopped producing them after the fall of Asgard.”

Thor’s countenance had gone so still Loki feared he had stopped breathing. “Brother...”

“One of our Einherjar?” Thor whispered. “Did one of my Kingsguard do this?”

“Your old Kingsguard who would have had such arrows in their possession had all died holding the fort when Hela came to Asgard.” Valkyrie shook her head. “As Captain of your present Kingsguard, I can assure you this arrow has passed none of our hands.”

One of Thor’s hands reached up to stroke an eyebrow as if warding off the beginning of a headache.

“There is another thing, Thor,” Stephen said hesitantly. He took a deep breath to gather the courage to break the more disturbing news.

“Dr Banner has managed to isolate the poison from Loki’s stomach contents. He identified it as a toxin called temetrol.” He reached under the table for Loki’s hand and true enough, it was shaking. “It was in the milk.”

Loki’s face blanched. “What kind of poison is that?”

“It comes from a poisonous plant called White Snakeroot, native to North America. It contaminates the meat and the milk of the cattle that may have consumed it, usually by accident for it used to be a wild-growing, common woodland plant. Historically it killed a lot of people, before the introduction of safety measures in modern dairy practices such as large pooling of milk from various sources and pasteurisation.”

The shadows in Stephen's eyes darkened, his grey eyes appearing almost black in poorly-concealed fury. "The concentration of temetrol in the sample was enough to kill ten men, explaining the rapid onset and severity of symptoms."

Stephen leaned in his chair as he allowed half a minute to pass for his audience to process the information before he continued. “I have interrogated the kitchen staff and they have all confirmed that all the milk used in the kitchens comes from a reliable supplier, sourced directly from the largest milk company in Oslo.”

“And as it happens, milk was not required in the preparation for that night’s dinner menu and despite Loki’s impromptu request, no new carton of milk was found to have been opened,” Stephen reported. “Einar did not remember receiving any pitcher containing milk that night, let alone taking it to Loki and pouring it in his food.”

“So…what does that mean?” Thor’s brows furrowed. “Magic milk? From a magic cow?”

Loki rolled his eyes.

“It means there is an opportunist among us. Ever watching. Ever waiting,” Loki said flatly. “And he is _close_.”

A chill ran down Thor’s spine at Loki’s next words. “This is no longer about the throne or the line of succession. Perhaps it never was.”

Loki’s hand fell away from Stephen’s as he buried his face in a trembling hand he would have remembered to hide had he not been so overcome by a sick, churning fear. “This is personal.”

_________________________________

“What am I going to do, Stephen?”

“Do rephrase that, my dear.”

Despite the dire situation, Loki simply had to smile as he remembered the memory of that fateful night when Stian, then still unnamed and unannounced, came crashing into their lives. Stephen was right. They were in this together. 

Loki leaned his head against Stephen’s bare chest. “What are _we_ going to do?”  

Stephen’s fingers brushed lightly up and down his arm. “First you are going to eat your reuben sandwich as you promised –”

Loki groaned.

“And I…am going to dream walk.”

Loki stiffened. “What.”

“I am missing something, Loki.”

“You wish to look inside my head for clues?”

“With your permission, of course.” Stephen absently brushed his lips against the top of Loki’s head. “Your subconscious is a powerful tool, Loki. It is trying to tell us something. I can feel it.”

The grip around Loki’s arm tightened. “I think that is why the dreams are not letting you go.”

“But I can’t exactly do much snooping around when I’m too busy choking on my own blood, can I?”

“Exactly. And I have a feeling that that is where I come in.”

Loki shuddered at the thought of going through another nightmare again tonight. He fought the hundred ways he could put his objection into words but a part of him knew it had to be done. The Valkyrie taking an arrow for their son was the last straw.

“Alright, Stephen. I trust you.”

Stephen pulled back to stare at him, his eyes silently asking, _You do?_

 “I do.” Loki's eyes had darkened to a shade of the deepest sea. “Let’s get this bastard once and for all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a soft spot for Thor #1 Loki. And I like the idea of Stephen having a neck fetish. Sorry, not sorry. >.<
> 
> Thank you to those who are still sticking with the story so far! (I have a feeling this is going to be a looong one at the rate that I'm telling the story..Sorry! (for real)


	13. When Time Was Yours and Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip down memory lane leaves Loki shaken, and Stephen wishing he had just asked Tripadvisor for recommendations.

_London Sanctum, Present Time_

 

“What a dreary-looking place.” Loki looked up at the formidable, greystone building in front of him and said the first thing that came to his mind. The massive skylight bearing the symbol of the Eye of Agamotto stared down at him in all its daunting and provocative glory, as if barring him entry but daring him to take a step inside at the same time.

“How hideous.”

“Your inner diva is showing, Loki.”

“My dear, what utter ruin your disciples have turned this place into,” he murmured under his breath, running his fingers across the lichen-spattered and moss-cracked slabs that made up the cobblestone wall feature.

“Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” he quickly said.

Hands in his pockets, Loki took his time climbing up the steps to join Stephen who was waiting for him at the door, “For such a prime piece of real estate, you would do well to liven the place up a little bit.”

“Yeah well, Sol Mara, the late Guardian of the Sanctum was better at this sort of thing than I am.” Stephen waved a hand and the heavy oak doors parted soundlessly on their own volition. “The London Sanctum has changed hands many times since his death, no Master of the Mystic Arts ever stayed here very long.”

“You mean since his murder.”

Stephen looked at him strangely. “I don’t believe I ever told you about how he died.”

Loki returned his gaze. “You didn’t. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

Stephen was still looking at him suspiciously.

“It was just an educated guess, darling.” He smiled serenely. “Dangerous business isn’t it? Protecting the Sanctum?”

Stephen decided there was a time for mystery and a time for a plain old cup of tea. “Let’s get you inside and out of the cold.”

But Loki did not step inside immediately. He remained standing a few footsteps away from the threshold, his eyes fixed in the distant on something beyond the open doors.

“Loki?”

Loki’s senses tingled as the mystical energies shrouding the sanctuary reached out to _touch_

_It has been a while. Perhaps you have forgotten me?_

“There is no need to worry, Loki.” Stephen walked back out over the threshold toward him, drops of rain slanting in the wind dotting his shoulders.

“You’re not on the watchlist anymore, remember? If the New York Sanctum thinks you’re okay, so does London.”

“They are not one and the same, Strange.” Loki’s eyes were fixed once more upon the Eye. “The state of my welcome is not up to you.”

_You do remember me, don’t you, old friend?_

The sentient magic of the Sanctum fleeted wildly back and forth from embracing him in nostalgic remembrance to waving him away in indifference, as if having found his seidr foreign and unfamiliar, which should not be the case at all.

The crushing wave of rejection had Loki reeling slightly, before it dawned on him just what the root cause of the Sanctum’s hesitance might be. “Ah.”

A hand left his coat pocket and came to rest lightly upon his abdomen.

_You haven’t been properly introduced._

“Loki, are you alright?”

The other hand too left his pocket, only to press his index finger against his lips.

_“In a minute, Stephen.”_

The Sanctum reached out once more, and this time Loki allowed her to encroach upon his person, coaxing her to look deep…deeper until her omniscient gaze finally landed upon the magical being he was carrying inside him.

_Recognise me._

His heart pounded as their unborn daughter reciprocated the gentle greetings with her unique blend of magic, the embodiment of the perfect marriage between his seidr and the Sorcerer Supreme’s mystical energy.

_Remember me._

and all of sudden, the invisible weights anchoring his feet down to the earth lifted.

“You done?” Somehow Stephen managed to hide his concern pretty well behind a façade of snarky nonchalance.

“Goodness.” Loki cleared his throat. “So impatient,” and took a step inside.

_________________________________

Loki sauntered around the massive Drawing Room, keeping his footfalls light so as not to stir the dust from the thick carpet underneath his feet.

“Nobody home?” His voice carried and echoed off the high walls despite the acoustic dampening of the heavy tapestries draped from the ceiling to the floor.

“No. We should have the place all to ourselves for a day or two.” Stephen speedread through the Guardian’s log, humming and aah-ing every so often whenever something caught his interest.

“Really?” Loki ran a hand along the exquisite stone finish of the mantelpiece. He grimaced when his fingers came away black.

“Yup.” Stephen slammed the tome shut, sending clouds of dust billowing up into the air. “The current Guardian of the London Sanctum has been called upon to aid Master Minoru to neutralise a threat in Hong Kong.”

“A threat?” Loki gingerly lowered himself onto a Chesterfield sofa, the quilted leather weathered yet pleasantly pliant, and he groaned in utter pleasure as he sank back on his haunches.

His back and feet were killing him. “Should you not be there?”

“They have managed without me so far. I am needed here to fortify the Sanctum and reinforce the wards around this part of the hemisphere, should Hong Kong fall and the threat shift its attention westward.”

Stephen walked over to the windows. With a flick of his hand, the curtains parted, letting what little English sunshine left of the fast-receding daylight to seep through the bay windows.

“Why don’t you rest for a while.” Stephen studied him from a distance. “You look peaky.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Loki bundled his coat under his head and stretched his legs along the length of the Chesterfield, fully intent on taking a long, uninterrupted kip.

Not a minute must have passed before he opened his eyes again when he suddenly felt a cuff being wrapped around his upper arm. He groaned inwardly.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your mother-henning, my love, but couldn’t you have lost it somewhere over the Atlantic?”

“Had we flown in an actual aircraft to get here I could have. But alas, we didn’t. So.” Stephen gloated. “Suck it.”

“But we’re supposed to be on a vacation. Can we not take a rest from all this? I won’t tell Christine if you don’t.”

“Fat chance.”

“I’m not fat.”  

“No, you’re not. You’re gorgeous.” Stephen kissed him on the lips quickly. “Now shut up.”

“You’re sexy when you’re bossy.” Loki licked his lips, and drowsed.

“Blood pressure’s alright.” Stephen winced at the sight of Loki’s feet, once bony and slim, now painfully swollen up to the level of his shin. “Your feet hurting?”

“Like a bitch.”

“You’re sexy when you cuss.”

“Sorry. I know I shouldn’t.” Loki held both hands to the sides of his belly.

“You trying to cover her ears?” Stephen had to smile.

“And getting her to calm down.” Loki covered his mouth with the back of his hand to stifle a yawn. “She hasn’t stopped squirming ever since we arrived.”

Stephen’s hand was suddenly on his belly, warm and heavy. “But you don’t feel unwell? Headaches, blurring of vision, weird pains in your stomach?”

“What? Goodness, no, nothing of the sort. I feel fine.” Loki made an irritable face as he rubbed his side again. “It’s this place. She’s…excited.”

In his relief, Stephen allowed himself to smile. “You’ll be okay here by yourself?”

“Of course. I’ll make sure to shout loud enough to wake all the ghosts in this place if I need you.”

“Yeah well, you know I’ll come running.” Stephen’s knees creaked as he rose from his crouched position.

He winced as he attempted to shake the crepitus from his joints. “Or hobbling. God I’m getting old.”

Loki’s eyes opened slowly. “Strange.”

“Hmm?”

“You can’t.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You can’t do that.”

“Huh?”

“You can’t let me see you like that.”

“What are you talking about?” Stephen laughed.

Loki did not answer, but the sudden, pasty whiteness of his face was telling enough.

“Loki, it’s just my wonky knees!”

“You know it’s not just your damn knees.” To Stephen’s utter horror, Loki’s eyes began to fill.

“Hey.” Looping his shin around the front leg of the armchair closest to him, Stephen dragged it forward across the floor carefully so as to not make any undesirable sound, bringing it in closer until his knees came into contact with the edge of the sofa.

“Loki, what’s going on with you?”

“I told you to be careful.” Loki leaned his head back, spilling long black hair off the armrest in a disarrayed tumble, his neck taut and stretched with strain.

“What are you saying?” Stephen thumbed away the wetness from the corner of one eye. “You’ve been acting weird ever since we got here.”

“You were not supposed to leave me.” The words were spoken in Loki’s voice yet the nuances were strange and unfamiliar and Stephen felt his heart skip a beat.

Stephen frowned deeply. “Loki?”

Loki cocked his head sideways, his green eyes wide and confused. “What?”

“What was that?” Stephen’s heart thundered in his chest, a sick feeling churning in his stomach.

Loki stared at him uncomprehendingly before the light returned to his glazed green eyes once more.

“It’s nothing, Stephen.” He gave a watery smile.

“It’s just like you said, this place has…character. It seems to have somehow brought out the melancholy in me.” He hurriedly added upon seeing the stricken look on Stephen’s face, “But the good kind!”

“There’s no such thing.” Stephen was not easily fooled.

The three Sanctums were the most spiritually active places on earth, where high concentrations of mystical energies coalesced to form an impenetrable shield around the planet; lesser sorcerers had been overwhelmed by the sheer density of cosmic and elemental energies exuding from the very particles of air around them, the very earth at their feet – but surely a sorcerer of Loki’s calibre would not succumb to disequilibrium so easily like so?

Or would he, in his somehow weakened, compromised state?

Had Stephen unknowingly put Loki and their unborn daughter in danger?

“Should I not have brought us here?” Stephen pressed. “Do you want me to take you elsewhere? A hotel, maybe?”

“There is no need, Stephen. I am fine.” Loki closed his eyes once more, his face still wan and drawn. “Truly.”

“There is something you are not telling me.”

“Shh.” Without opening his eyes, Loki interlaced his fingers through the hand still playing with his hair, and brought Stephen’s knuckles to his lips. “Spoilers, darling.”

“I hate it when you say that,” Stephen said flatly. “Every time you say that, somehow one of us ends up crying or dying.”

“I’ll do my best to do neither.” Loki clasped both hands over his belly and breathed in deeply. “If you promise to do the same.”

Stephen may have said something in reply but Loki was no longer listening; the music no one else seemed to hear but him was simply too loud, and Loki had no choice but to sleep to drown it out.

_______________________________

 

When Loki awoke, the light of dusk streamed in through the windows, the daubs of red and amber glinting off the giltwood trumeau mirror in front of him like liquid fire and blood.

He bolted upright and the light blanket fell away from his chest. The air was heavy and still and smelled of mildew and lavender and death

and Loki suddenly remembered where he was.

He ran a hand down his chest and swept the blanket away. He frowned as he touched his fingers to his stomach, flat as a board – and definitely empty.

So he remembered the where.

but not the when.

Loki stood and walked over slowly to the mirror. A Loki from another time stared back at him, rail-thin and solemn, his black hair short and cropped close to the scalp, framing a face as pale as a ghost.

How much younger then? Or older?

Loki scrutinised his eyes. Despite the deceptively youthful face, his eyes appeared as he had always remembered them; centuries-old, promising mystery and hinting at an unfathomable well of secrets, eyes as green as the sea, capable of expressing the most profound love and the extremes of hate alike.

_Who am I?_

_When am I?_

As if on cue, the haunting notes of a Chinese violin drifted in through the door left slightly ajar like the call of a distant songbird and triangles, and his stomach fluttered.

He moved like the wind, trusting his keen sense of hearing to lead the way down the endless corridors toward the source of the music.

He knew not the wisdom of remaining lost in this dreamscape but he cared little for the way home, if answering the call of the siren meant laying eyes on his beloved once again –

“Mo ghràidh.”

_My love._

Long, tapered fingers pressed on the strings and the music stopped. The fiddle rested upon her knees.

“There you are.” She looked up and smiled. “You took your time.”

“I have been asleep,” he murmured. “Were you waiting for me?”

“The one with the most time left does the waiting remember?” Tucking the long, vertical neck of the erhu against the crook of her own neck, she reached out a hand for Loki to take. He only hesitated for a fraction of a second, more out of fear that she would disappear upon physical contact.

When she did not vanish into thin air, Loki clutched her fingers tighter and pressed them to his cheek, relishing the warmth he had not expected to ever feel again.

“In your universe, you have waited long enough, Loki.” She tipped her head, gesturing at the python-skin box in her lap. “In mine, I only had to keep playing.”

“How are you still here?”

She fingered the outer corner of Loki’s eye, marvelling at the absence of the laugh lines she had become so used to seeing. “I don’t know. Perhaps I am one of the ghosts you were talking about?”

She leaned in closer until he could see the whites of her eyes, widened and almost teasing. “Or perhaps this conversation has already happened and you are only just remembering it.”

No. He would have remembered if it had…he would not have forgotten. Not her.

“The Sanctum.”

“She _is_ a living thing.” She fussed with the sleeve of her robe that had somehow gotten entangled with the horse hair keeping the two strings together.

“As I kept trying to tell him.”

“She let you in, did she not?”

“She had every intention to bring you to me.” She frowned. “Or I to you.”

She shook her head. “It can get confusing.”

“Did you suffer?”

“At the time I must have.” She shrugged her thin, bony shoulders. “But I do not remember it now. Not the pain, no. But what I remembered was the element of surprise, and how surprised I was at myself for being surprised by it.”

“I have told your Stephen Strange such. One can never be ready for it.” Loki frowned at the mention of that name. The proverbial bell was ringing madly in his ear but his mind’s eye came up empty.

“I was not ready when the end came for me.”

He had been lost, lost to himself, his family, his home, he would have crawled out of the Void on his hands and knees to get to her, had he only known…

The timing of it all _sucked_ , and the hollow of her demise left a gaping abyss in the pit of his stomach he never bothered to fill for he knew he never could. “I was not there for you when it did.”

“Oh Loki.” Her lips were cold as they brushed against the deep furrows of grief between his eyes. “You were there when I _began_.”

“Do you remember it now? Our past life together?” Loki implored, for yes, _yes_ he had waited. He had waited so long for her to discover who he was, beyond Loki, beyond the God of Mischief who played mind games and parlour tricks, beyond the nameless God who parlayed villages into kingdoms and kingdoms into desolate fields of war and death.

“Who you were? Who I was?”

“I knew who you were right from the beginning, my lord.” She kissed him gently on the lips, the first kiss this version of her ever deigned to give despite the centuries they spent slipping in and out of each other’s timeline. “You were my greatest love.”

But when she reopened her eyes, to his devastation, they were empty and devoid of tenderness.

Perhaps her reincarnation retained not only her memories, but his sins…perhaps she had never forgiven him for what he had done, and never would.

“You need to go. He is calling.”

He could not hear anything. “Who is?”

As if on cue

_“Loki.”_

She rose to her feet, towering over him in her resplendent, golden-yellow robes. “You belong to another now.”

Loki could not speak for the icy chill that slithered down his spine. He climbed to his feet.

Her hands snaked out fast and wrapped around his upper arms, tight and firm. Yet her voice was soft. “You need to remember.”

_“Loki.”_

She reached down and touched his stomach gently. “She needs you to remember.”

_“Loki!”_

“Now,” and her other hand suddenly slammed into his forehead. _“Awaken!”_

_________________________________

When Loki came to, he was kneeling on the floor, his forehead pressed against a cool surface. He could feel his consciousness wavering in and out of form, the pull of the dreamscape relentless and strong.

Yet the damaged hands holding him up were strong too. They shook terribly though.

“Stephen,” he murmured.

“Loki.” He could feel his husband sag against him in relief, his body warm and heavy and _grounding_. “What the hell happened? How did you get up here?”

Loki’s eyes were still too heavy so he kept them closed. He did not need to see, only to _feel_ , and his heart was comforted to feel her once more, stirring deep within him. He clasped both hands to his stomach and shuddered in utter relief.

Stephen shook his shoulder gently. “Loki, open your eyes and look at me.”

Loki obeyed.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the Relic Room.” Stephen sounded relieved yet strangely confounded. He had returned to the Drawing Room after completing his tasks only to find Loki missing. “You were not supposed to be able to enter.”

A very white hand came to rest upon the protective glass casing.

“Loki, are you alright?” The trance he had found Loki in was so deep Stephen feared he was never going to pull him out. “You had me worried. You were barely breathing.”

Loki did not answer. All he could do was stare at the antique musical instrument encased in the glass, at the glistening box made of the finest red sandalwood, the finely entwined silk threads of the strings, the sleek bamboo bow resting against the stand – he could make out the thick layer of dust coating the violin, and his heart plummeted.

“That’s an erhu. It belonged to the Ancient One.” Apparently, Stephen was still not convinced he could sit up unsupported, judging by the arm he had wrapped around Loki’s waist. “Dates back to the Qing Dynasty, the curator said.”

“Ming, actually.” A sick whisper.

“What?” Stephen knew he had heard Loki correctly...or had he?

“I gave it to her.” Exhausted, Loki pressed his forehead once more against the cool, cool glass.

The hand that had been gently stroking his stomach stilled. “You didn’t.”

Loki had to smile. _Oh Stephen._

“You couldn’t have.” Stephen sounded faint.

 _Remember_.

His daughter shifted violently inside him and his stomach suddenly twisted in pain. Loki grunted and wrapped his own arm around the one circling his waist.

“Loki?”

“I need you to take me somewhere.”

“Anywhere.” As long as it was away from here, Stephen knew it was a mistake now to bring Loki here. “Where? Back to Asgard?” he frowned at the beads of sweat dotting Loki’s forehead, “The hospital?”

Loki climbed slowly to his feet, using the glass encasement as a form of support. He shook his head, his eyes still clouded with the strain of trying to remember…it was coming back in bits and pieces, some in vivid multicolour, some a washed-out grey.

With one hand on his belly, Loki groped for his way out of the Forbidden Room; he could feel the wards all over the door, it should not have allowed anyone other than a Master of the Mystic Arts to enter – how did he get in in the first place? – he continued to walk unsteadily down the corridor, with Stephen trailing close behind.

The Sorcerer Supreme wanted nothing more than to protest, to cajole Loki back to the safety of one of the bedrooms to rest, but something in him held him back.

This had gone beyond his depth of understanding, and he could not for the life of him, stop himself from watching it unfold. Perhaps deep down he already knew.

Loki was no stranger to the Sanctum from the way he manoeuvred the corridors, the many twists and turns, the hidden passageways. Loki had been here before.

And true enough, they stopped in front of a set of double doors, heavy and imposing, made of a mix of teak and mahogany, its handles burnished gold.

The doors opened slowly on their own; either Loki had used the power of his mind or the Sanctum was as sentient as just about every strange thing kept in this house, Stephen could not be sure.

But it sure was fascinating as hell.

The three Permanent Portals stared back at them, each one offering a different landscape, a different promise of adventure.

The very far right promised the Eikando Zenrinji of Autumn Leaves in the ancient town of Kyoto (why couldn’t he have brought Loki there? It was breath-takingly _beautiful_ ) 

The very far left was the bustling pedestrian walk of Las Ramblas. Barcelona. Which would not have been a bad second choice. Loki would have enjoyed the energy of the city, the tapas, the architecture. He would have said something crazy like how he was actually a muse for Gaudi or something and Stephen would have laughed it off as one of his tall tales, despite actually believing it, reluctantly, of course.

But the portal in the middle was what had caught Loki’s eye. With snow covering the top of the mountains and the residual green and yellow of summer still ferning the lower highlands, it was a barren and desolate landscape, with its brooding peaks and a very narrow, treacherous, death-trap of a valley.

It was too stark and cruel to be called beautiful, yet too majestic and spectacular to call her anything but.

It was a place of death.

A place of crossed paths, and intertwined destinies.

_Glencoe._

A pale hand pointed, steady and unwavering. “There.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find Celtic Lore fascinating and cannot help immersing the story deep in it. I can't promise I will do it justice but I will sure as hell try. Cheers for the kudos and comments, guys. They keep me going, truly.


	14. Every Me, Every You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen puts all his cards on the table and a ring on Loki's finger.

_New Asgard, Way Back When_

 

Stephen watched from where he was sitting at the window as Loki finally finished the last of his supper. “Good?”

Loki shrugged, and licked his thumb clean. “I don’t really see the point of eating since most of it will likely end up on the floor by the time this night is over.”

“Beats going to bed hungry.”

“My gut is a pit of snakes nowadays, Strange.” Loki tried to rub the knots away, he was so tense. “Hunger would be most welcome, actually.”

Instead of magicking the mess away, Loki took his time cleaning up after himself and spent the next few minutes pottering about the room in an attempt to distract himself momentarily from what was about to come, even when he knew it was not likely to calm him down by any significant measure.

Stephen watched as Loki fidgeted his way from one end of the room to another.

“I know this isn’t easy for you.” Stephen wrapped his hands around his mug of steaming hot coffee. It was going to be a long night ahead. “Letting someone else get inside your head.”

“I’ve done it to enough people.” Loki wrung his hands. He stopped his pacing. “Shouldn’t complain, really.”

“Besides I’m not letting just anybody in, am I.” Stephen only barely managed to lift his mug into the air before he suddenly found himself gloriously burdened with a lapful of Loki, nearly spilling piping hot coffee all over them both. “Only you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me.” At Loki’s plea, phrased somewhere between a semi-optimistic statement and a yearning question, it irked Stephen to think that Loki even needed to ask –

“Never.”

Loki leaned down and Stephen reared his head to meet him half-way. He savoured the taste of horseradish on Loki’s lips. “Mmm. Spicy.”

Loki licked his lips. Stephen always liked his coffee sweet and comfortingly creamy. “Mmm. Nutty.”

“You ready?” Stephen ran his hand up and down Loki’s tense back.

“Are _you_ ready?” Loki tilted his head. “To go up against the monsters in my head?”

Stephen stared at Loki’s lips, still slightly swollen and red from hot sauce.

“There’s something I want to get off my chest first.” Loki’s weight was crushing him but the feel of the heavy, warm body against him was damn reassuring and he relished in it for he would not have Loki any other way but in his arms, safe and alive.

He met Loki’s discomfited gaze head-on. “I can’t promise I won’t say this more than once, for as much as I hate repeating myself, I have to take into account your propensity to deliberately forget things when it comes to you and me.”

And in the blink of an eye, Stephen had them both transported onto the bed, their positions changed with Loki now pinned beneath him. He sealed his lips over Loki’s mouth to catch the sudden gust of breath as Stephen pushed his weight down against his chest and belly.

“You forget that I love you.”

Trembling hands reached to stroke the upper half of Loki’s face, thumbing away the creases of worry and distress from the finely sculpted eyebrows. “You forget that I will risk anything, do anything in my power to save you, and our son.”

Loki’s eyes softened.

“And you forget that I am a badass sorcerer and can pretty much do anything you can.”

Loki opened his mouth to interject, but Stephen effectively muzzled him with a stolen kiss. “Except for that weird translocation spell where you change places with another person because that is just tricky and unpleasant and I can never be sure we haven’t swapped kidneys or something.”

“ - you were taking too long with the finkydiddling and I was…squirrely-”

“Interrupt my love confession one more time, Odinson, and I will never let you ride me again. You may look skinny but you’re _heavy_.”

As if remembering that he himself was crushing his lover with the full weight of his body, Stephen rolled off to the side but was quick to slip an arm around the back of Loki’s neck and shoulders, pulling him in.

“Okay, okay. Please, continue.” Loki let out a little happy sigh, and snuggled in closer.

“And can’t you just say horny like a normal person? But anyway, what I’m trying to say is…”

Stephen’s fingers stopped playing with the hair at the nape of Loki’s neck.

“You need to give me a chance.” Stephen felt Loki stiffen instantly in his arms. He tightened his grip as he reiterated, “I just want to be given a chance.”

“I don’t want to be the last to know because by then it might just be too late.” Stephen kissed Loki on the forehead long and deep. “I can’t kill you myself if you’re already dead.”

Loki stared deep into his eyes, right into the depth of his soul. “Stephen…”

“Every waking day I see you off. You kiss me goodbye and I let you go.” Loki reached up and ran a thumb along Stephen’s lower lip. “And yet, my heart breaks when you’re not here, and I can’t, Stephen.”

His face crumpled. “I can’t ask that of you. I can’t let myself be that – _selfish_ person anymore.”

“The moment you placed Stian in my arms, I knew.” Loki’s fingers curled around the greying hair at his temple. “That it’s not about me. Not anymore.”

“You are so preoccupied with the notion that my being the Sorcerer Supreme means your having to give me up to the world,” Stephen’s voice was hard but his eyes were gentle. “But Loki, here’s the thing.”

He placed a warm hand against Loki’s, pinning it to the side of his face. “ _You_ are my world.”

Loki’s eyes welled.

“Between the Earth and you?” Stephen’s countenance hardened in his conviction. “It might be that I can only save one of you, or neither of you. But it also goes without saying if I can save both, then by God I will.”

“The seven billion people on Earth may have their claim on the Sorcerer Supreme, but this?” Claiming it as his own, he placed Loki’s palm down against his chest, “This mortal heart? It belongs only to you.”

“I am yours, Loki.”

Stephen could not remember the last time he ever begged anyone for anything, let alone for _love_ –

“ _See_ me.”

Yet no words had ever slipped more easily from his mouth.

“Love me. Freely.”

And like magic, the tension drained away from Loki’s tense, rigid form.

“ _Oh my.”_ His green eyes shone, glistening with emotions. His face much brighter, he gave Stephen one of his rare, open smiles, teeth and all. “Did you and Thor have a sit-together over this? You sound awfully similar.”

“Really. We’re finally having a moment and you bring your brother into this.”

“You should thank him, you know. He paved the way for you, made me all mellow and occasionally well-balanced inside.” Loki made a slight face. “In the olden days they sacrificed wives, daughters and children in worship of me. You gave me a sandwich.”

Stephen harrumphed. “It was a perfectly good sandwich.”

“What a _marvelous_ love story,” Loki muttered under his breath, but the gentle smile remained on his face. “Right out of Extreme Cheapskates.”

“I gave you a baby,” Stephen murmured. He palmed the taut contours of Loki’s abdomen and began to knead the lean muscles underneath. “Loki, when this is all over…”

“No.”

“Yes.”

_“No.”_

“Oh, let’s.”

Loki gently pried Stephen’s hand off his belly. “Stephen, we nearly lost our son today.”

“I can’t think of replacing him with another.” He shook his head vehemently, close to tears again. “Not yet.”

“That’s not what I –” Stephen’s lips clammed. “Alright, Loki. I’m sorry.”

He sighed heavily and made as if to run a hand through his hair, before staying his palm on his forehead, eyes solemn with regret. “Guess I just couldn’t stop thinking about the promise I made to you.”

Loki sounded strangely timid. “Which one?”

“To give you as many children as you wish so you wouldn’t forget me when I’m gone.” Stephen’s eyes were downcast. “But now that I’ve come close to losing you again, I’m beginning to wonder if it’s not the other way around.”

“Death is closer to all of us than you think, Strange. I will not bind you to me just because it might come for me before it does you.”

Loki cupped a hand over his cheek. “Love is finite. Love is mortal. You will find another.”

“The lengths I am willing to go to just to prove you wrong might surprise you.” A sleight of hand later and Stephen held out something that gleamed in the dark. “This is for you.”

Loki stared at the gold object in Stephen’s palm.

“So no one can ever trap you in the Mirror Dimension ever again.”

“No.”

“Take it.”

“No, Strange, I can’t possibly use this –”

“Thor was right when he said I could have done more to protect you when Mordo came after you. That I should have seen it coming.”

That almost-fatal error in his judgement would always stay with him like a bad memory. “If I hadn’t been so short-sighted, I could have taught you how to use it and you wouldn’t have gone through…what you did.”

Stephen shook his head, resolute. “I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“But whose sling ring is this?”

“Doesn’t matter, Loki.”

Ignoring Loki’s protests, Stephen slipped it onto Loki’s ring and middle fingers. It fit perfectly. “It’s just a ring. Standard issue.”

Loki could smell a lie better than anyone. There was nothing ordinary about the ring. “Whose was it?”

“It’s getting late, my dear.”

Stephen saw the fear return to Loki’s eyes and his heart sank.

“It’s just a dream, Loki. It’s not real.”

Loki swallowed visibly.

“Now sleep.” Stephen sealed his promise with a brush of his lips against Loki’s. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

Loki gave a muted nod. He fiddled absently with the ring on his finger.

“I could have so much fun with this.”

“Only when necessary, Loki.”

“Like Mindspeak?”

“Just like Mindspeak.”

A glum sigh.

“So you really love me, huh?”

After a beat,

“Like Thor loved his hammer.”

Loki barked a laugh and soon they were both chuckling until tears came to Loki’s eyes and he buried his face into Stephen’s chest without another word.

After a few minutes, exhaustion won out and Loki sagged, going completely limp.

Stephen listened as Loki’s breathing evened out gradually, and silently started the mental countdown –

“Does this mean I have to get my own sandwich from now on?”

“Oh, for the love of – _Sleep!”_

_____________________________

It was near three in the morning when the saccadic movements underneath Loki’s eyelids became rapid enough that Stephen was convinced Loki had finally entered REM sleep, the stage of dreaming.

Laying his head down on the same pillow, Stephen threw Loki’s sleeping profile one last look, placed a palm on the steady rise and fall of Loki’s chest, and closed his eyes.

He opened them again.

He was now standing in Asgard’s main dining hall. If he had not known this was a dream, he would have a problem convincing himself it _was_ one, for everything was vivid and extremely-detailed, down to the colours of the retainers’ clothes and the contrast of the inky blackness of the night outside the windows against the dim light of the chandeliers that cast great, slanting shadows, hiding some of the members of the floor from view, and bringing unwelcome attention to others.

When Loki said he had a good memory, he was not kidding, Stephen marveled. The sheer amount of memory space required to reenact the dreamscene was staggering. He could smell the strong scent of roasting meats and began to understand why Loki stayed away from them. Stephen never minded the great roasts of Asgard which happened to be the pride of Asgard’s culinary masters, he even found them tantalizing at times, but tonight he simply found the odors sickening and unpleasant.

_Sucks to be you, Loki._

In homage to Loki’s supersonic hearing, Stephen half-listened to the strings of conversation from the tables where the high society of Asgard were gathered…but instead of the usual merry drinking and boisterous talks that Asgard’s dinnertime was known for, the brouhaha was greatly subdued tonight.

For how could the men dare let loose their inhibition when their King looked as troubled and their Prince so sullen the very air hung stagnant and heavy over their heads like a dark cloud?

Stephen quickened his pace toward the High Table as Thor and Loki took their seats, adjacent, yet one had his head turned one way, and the other another.

Thor was the first to break the silence. _“Brother.”_

 _“I am not talking to you, Thor.”_ Stephen tutted inwardly at Loki’s snappish remark. The discord between the two was apparent on the security video, but watching it unfold in front of him was an experience all on its own. Loki was _pissed_.

Stephen knew it was futile but he reached out with both his hand and his magic nonetheless. Yet neither seemed able to penetrate the wall between the dreamer and the traveler; Loki could not see him nor hear him nor feel his touch for Stephen’s fingers passed through Loki’s shoulder like a disembodied apparition.

“Right. Just here to observe,” he muttered to himself. So that meant he was not going to be able to slip into the kitchens or walk the grounds outside. Or kill the bastard before he laced Loki’s food with poison, just because he could.

Stephen’s eyes roamed over every person who was sitting or waiting upon the High Table that night. If they were dealing with a shape-shifter, it could be anybody. It could be the Valkyrie standing behind Thor, looking bored out of her mind, yet ever vigilant and at the ready.

_“You cannot ignore me forever, Brother.”_

_“Watch me. I have always known you weren’t the brightest of the bunch but of all the stupid,_ _stupid_ _things you could have done – ”_

Even the reflection of the back of Loki’s head in the large decorative mirror on the wall behind the High Table looked angry, the line of his shoulders stiff and severe.

Loki scratched the air delicately and Einar stepped forward to hear Loki’s request. Stephen watched his every move like a hawk but quickly discovered to his dismay that he could not follow him further beyond the service side door as Einar disappeared down into the kitchens.

Einar emerged minutes later, bearing a small silver tray in one hand and a platter of garnishes in the other. He placed them both momentarily on the trestle table and Stephen came closer until he was standing next to the young man. His heart leapt to his throat when his reflection did not appear in the mirror next to Einar, before he remembered that he was in someone else’s dream and nearly laughed at himself.

He watched closely for anything suspicious as Einar carefully added some chopped parsley, oyster crackers and croutons into the bowl, yet there was no milk or cream in sight. Stephen followed him as he walked over to high table and placed the bowl in front of Loki. _“Anything else I can get you, your Highness?”_

Loki had both hands cupped over the sides of his face, looking all pinch-faced and headachy as he stared down at his bowl of soup. _“No, thank you, Einar.”_

Einar collected the tray of garnish from the trestle and turned to leave. As he walked off the dais in the direction of the kitchen once more, Stephen pushed himself off from where he was leaning against the table, so abruptly his phantom hip would have knocked into Loki’s elbow had he been corporeal –

Einar had long since left the hall but his reflection stayed in the mirror.

Impossible though he knew, Stephen could swear their eyes met and when the sneer began to curl the lips on the usually sweet, gentle-faced young man, Stephen felt his blood run cold.

Mirror-Einar stepped out, and to a passing eye it would seem as if he had been there all along. In his hand was a small pitcher.

 _“A splash of milk, my Prince?”_ he purred.

 _No._ Stephen’s face drained of colour.

_Loki, no._

_“Sure,”_ he dimly heard Loki say.

And the poison-laced milk trickled innocently into its target.

If Loki’s conscious psyche had not been so absorbed with the shitty day he’d had, not to mention the headache, Loki would not have been fooled…for Mirror-Einar was only Einar from the waist-and-elbow up.

What the mirror could not see it could not replicate.

The hands were an old man’s hands, wrinkly and freckled. Yet the most unsightly thing about them were the dome-shaped, reddish nodules on his fingers, some crusted and some centrally ulcerated, much like badly infected, super-sized pimples.

Stephen’s heart raced. The doctor in him recognised those lesions. It was textbook.

He looked down to look at the feet.

There were none.

An illusion? An astral projection? A full, able-bodied conjuration?

His mission accomplished, Mirror-Einar turned around – oh if Stephen could just wipe that _smirk_ off his face – glided past him and disappeared once more into the realm of mirrors, back to its master.

“Loki, don’t!”

And Stephen jolted himself awake. Disoriented, he ignored the weakness in his joints and clumsily palmed Loki’s forehead.

“Loki, wake up.” He commanded. Loki did not answer, his eyes still moving rapidly under his closed lids.

Stephen gritted his teeth. Dream-walking always left him so wiped out. He blinked hard to chase the light-headedness away. “Loki, listen to my voice. You need to wake up, now!”

With a gasp, Loki’s body jerked and he thrashed, his flailing arms nearly striking Stephen in the face. “Hey, hey! You’re okay! Loki, it’s me!”

As consciousness slowly returned to Loki’s blank and unseeing eyes, they began to fill, and his hand flew to his throat, his voice hoarse with phantom screams and tears as he croaked, “Stephen.”

Stephen threw his arms around him and embraced him fiercely as Loki chanted over and over, “Thank you, thank you –”

“Whatever for?” Stephen palmed the back of Loki’s head as Loki buried his face into his shoulder. He could feel the wetness seep through his T-shirt.

“You pulled me out,” Loki breathed out. His heart was still racing like a mad horse. “You pulled me out.”

Stephen closed his eyes and planted a fierce kiss on the side of Loki’s head. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, _sap._
> 
> No, they are not married yet. The battle isn't over, they haven't won the war. Not the time for wedding bells, I'm afraid...
> 
> Thoughts, comments, questions are welcome!


	15. Sweet Dreams, Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen prepares himself for the battle ahead. Will he survive?

_New Asgard, way back when_

 

“This is what you saw in the dream?” Wong scrutinised the photo in his hand. He appeared very impressed. “You conjured this from Loki’s dream?”

“No. I Googled it, what do you think?” Stephen gave him an exasperated look. “Loki’s brain isn’t exactly connected to a copier machine.”

He propped his cheek up with his fist. Returning to sleep after such rude awakening was difficult but he managed to coax Loki (and by coaxing he meant slipping him a sleeping draught) to bed once more, whereas Stephen himself had stayed up for the remainder of the night, pacing back and forth, too restless to sleep. He would have marched straight into Thor’s chambers with his discovery had it still not been such an ungodly hour of the morning.

On second thought, maybe he should have, since Thor did break the door to his hotel room a few years ago…for which Stephen had more or less reluctantly forgiven, given how petrified he was that his little brother was going to die. The fact that it was Stephen who had knocked Loki up also helped his case.

And now here we are, Stephen thought ruefully.

But anyway

“Yes, those boils look like what I saw.”

Since New York was six hours behind Asgard, Wong was his next best option to bounce ideas off. As brainstorming partners went, he was not half-bad. Brilliant, in fact.

Wong crinkled his nose. “These look nasty.”

“They are what you would call Milker’s Nodules, a manifestation of an occupational viral skin disease. It’s the same virus responsible for Pseudocowpox.” Stephen knew the special study module he had done on infectious diseases when he was a trainee doctor would come in handy someday. “They are often found on the hands of workers who come into direct contact with infected cow udders, and judging from the number of lesions, I’d say he comes into contact with them a lot.”

“So…you’re essentially looking for a sorcerer who also freelances as a cattle farmer? A rancher?”

“More specifically, a dairy farmer. The poison was in the milk, not the meat,” Stephen reminded him. “The cattle must have grazed on white snakeroot for the toxin to contaminate the milk. It was not native to old Asgard, that could explain why it was not detected by the Healers.”

“Nor is it native to Norway.” Wong interjected, since his botany knowledge could rival Google’s after all. “It is native to –”

“Central and eastern North America, I know,” Stephen cut him off tersely. “But I altered the soil chemistry and ecosystem when the Asgardians first settled here, remember? It was the only way to allow for livestock production and create agriculture diverse enough to sustain a self-sufficient economy.”

Stephen inhaled deeply. “The only thing they can’t grow here is deep-water seaweed. And ghost peppers. Those are banned now.”

Wong shook his head. “You have a strange way of showing you care.”

Stephen gave him a look that simply meant Wong had strayed off-topic and should get back on the damn topic.

“So. Any milk cattle-rearing sorcerer with the tiniest bit of knowledge on alchemy could have seen it as an opportunity.” Wong studied the photo again. “If we’re dealing with a sorcerer, why didn’t he conceal them? Loki would put a glamour over these till the end of days and never take it off.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Loki’s vanity is unparalleled.” Alarmed, he turned his head to make sure Loki was still asleep, before swivelling in his chair to face the open portal again through which Wong was watching him from the Sanctum Library with a sly smile on his face.

“What?”

“Nothing. Again, it’s sweet that’s all. The care you take to not hurt his feelings.”

“I’m more concerned about the bodily harm that could come to me more than anything had he heard such a comment. Now can we get back to the subject, please?” Stephen asked irritably.

“Yes, the magic cowpox thing.” Wong looked thoughtful. “You did say he walked out of a mirror, but with no legs? A true mirror walker would have preserved the integrity of his physical body.”

“So it was a semi-solid, incomplete illusion, projected from a remote location.” Stephen nodded. “That would explain why he did not cast a glamour over his hands. He wasn’t physically there at the dining hall.”

“Guess you’re lucky the mirror wasn’t floor-length or we would have missed this vital clue.” Wong studied his friend. “You okay? You look beat.”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Stephen said. Upon realising how irritated he sounded, he shook his head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t run yourself into the ground, Strange. Too much coffee, too little sleep…plus you did just recover from some serious wounds from your last battle.”

It took Stephen a few seconds to gather the courage to broach the issue; he had let it linger long enough. “Why didn’t you tell me Loki helped you out?”

“Not my secret to tell, was it?” Wong shrugged. “All that mattered was you lived.”

Stephen opened his mouth to speak but Wong lifted a finger. “If you’re going to blame me for whatever fight you and Loki ended up having, think again. Always carefully seek the root cause of a problem and fix that. I’m your friend, not the collateral damage in your relationship.”

Momentarily stunned, Stephen could only stare.

“Yeah.” One would never think it looking at him, but Wong always came up with the wisest thing to say. Stephen could not help but smile wistfully. “I think…we have fixed that. Sort of.”

“Good.” Wong reached through the portal and clapped a hand on Stephen’s shoulder, hard. “Now can we get back to the subject? It’s ten and you’re already making me miss Game of Thrones. Make it damn worth it.”

To placate him, Stephen handed him a platter of smoked kipper and some crusty bread. “Here. Some supper for you, for starters.”

At least Wong looked pleased with the offering.

“The root cause,” Stephen echoed Wong’s words. “What is the root cause…”

“Yes. A sorcerer who is after Loki and your son. Why?”

“Getting rid of competition?” Wong wondered aloud. “Loki is one of the most powerful sorcerers in the Nine Realms, or so he claims…kill the sorcerer and claim his powers, that sort of thing?”

Stephen tapped his fingers on the table in frustration. Ideas were harder to come by when one was sleep-deprived and jittery from too much coffee. “Asgard is no more. And we’re light years away from what remains of the Nine Realms, now with the Bifrost and the Space Stone gone.”

“Yeah…the Sanctums would have pinged us anyway if anybody metaphysically suspicious has entered our orbit.” Wong’s small eyes widened at his next Eureka moment. “I’ve got it. Maybe someone is vying for the attention of our eligible Sorcerer Supreme, and wants his baby mama out of the way?”

“Where do you come up with all these crazy theories?”

“Just checking if you’re still awake.” Wong gave him a savage grin. “It would have been fun though, fending off an octogenarian temptress?”

“That’s it. I’m cancelling Netflix.”

“Tell me about the arrow incident.” Wong hurriedly changed their train of thought in the effort to salvage his cable subscription. “You say it penetrated Loki’s shield…which was the size of -?”

Stephen frowned as he tried to recall, “A 50-meter radius geodesic seiðr dome.”

Wong whistled. “Some force. That should have withstood anything.”

“Against a seiðr-fortified arrow, it couldn’t. For a given force and considering the relatively miniscule surface area of the tip, the pressure it generated was enough to penetrate the shield.”

“Yes, but didn’t you tell me that warrior lady leapt in and covered your boy with her own body?” Wong counter-argued. “If that were true, how did she manage to break through? The defect should have only been where the arrow entered. The rest of the dome should have still been impenetrable.”

Stephen slowly raised himself from leaning against the chair until he was hunched over his knees. “Wong…”

“I’m onto something.” Wong marvelled. Then his nose crinkled. “Am I?”

Stephen stared at him. “The arrow did not only penetrate the shield. It took it down completely.”

“But how?” Stephen resorted once more to pacing as if trying to match his footsteps to his racing mind. “Wait a minute…it’s coming…”

He stopped in his tracks. “In order for the shield to collapse completely, it would have needed to be neutered by something of similar strength, similar wavelength, similar energy signature –”

“Like acid-alkali neutralisation to produce salt and water…” Wong was beginning to understand it now.

“The arrow. It wasn’t seiðr-fortified, not really.” Stephen felt like he was grasping at straws. “It was more like…”

“Seiðr-coated,” Wong supplied helpfully.

“Yes!” Stephen snapped his fingers. “Exactly.”

He turned to gape at his friend. “Wong, you’re a genius.”

“I have been told,” Wong concurred readily. “But Strange, the formula really isn’t that simple. You have to know exactly just how acidic Loki is, in order to formulate the right pH alkaline to blast his shield.”

At Stephen’s glowering look, Wong shrugged, not the least bit guiltily. “Just a term.”

“And one would do that how?”

“Either one has to get very close to Loki when he performs the spell, or…” Wong hesitated.

“Or…?”

“He has in his possession a part of Loki.”

“You mean literally or figuratively?” Stephen asked, somewhat possessively.

Wong rolled his eyes. “Literally, you dumbass. A piece of Loki. Fingernails, lung tissue, a tooth, something.” His eyes lit up. “Blood? There was plenty of blood to be had, wasn’t there?”

“The biohazard disposal team took care of it, they incinerated every trace of Loki’s blood with magic, leaving only the one sample I took to Banner.” Stephen stared at his feet, as if the answer was somehow written on the floor. “Such precious biomaterial was too dangerous to keep.”

“I’d imagine so,” Wong said glumly. He could only imagine what catastrophe ancient blood like Loki’s could cause if it fell into the wrong hands. “So what then?”

Stephen kept staring at the floor. There was a lock of black hair stuck underneath the leg of his table, the very table where Loki had sat when Stephen gave him his haircut. The cleaners must have missed it.

And something at the back of his brain just _clicked_.

Stephen bolted for the tiny chest of drawers in the walk-in wardrobe where he kept his miscellaneous jumble of bric-a-brac and truly priceless, precious things –

“Strange?”

“You stupid, _stupid_ man.” Stephen palmed his eyes. And sighed.

“Strange, what’s the matter?” Wong peeked his head through the portal, keeping his voice down to a loud whisper lest he wake Loki, or worse, the baby next door.

Stephen cursed aloud. He always made sure he had a piece of Loki’s hair with him at all times; it was a habit Loki consented to and had never minded, but he had always kept it _on_ him, never somewhere anyone could get their hands on. Until three nights ago when Loki requested to have his hair trimmed.

And Stephen had stupidly gone and let his guard down and not thought twice about keeping a few locks of it in the wardrobe, seeing how it was their private chamber and should be sufficiently warded.

 _Or should have been._ “It’s gone.”

_You idiot._

“What’s gone?” Wong hissed.

_You big fucking idiot._

Stephen looked at the empty trinket box in his hand. “Loki’s hair. Someone’s taken it.”

Wong’s countenance shifted into one of dismay and extreme displeasure. If it had been less dire of a situation, he would have chastised the Sorcerer Supreme for being so careless. It would be counterproductive to do so anyway, judging from the look of fury on his friend’s face. “That’s not good, Strange.”

“Really, Wong. I wouldn’t have guessed,” Stephen said sarcastically. _Who? Who could have had access to their room?_

Always the better man, Wong ignored the snark and wasted no time putting his impressive brainpower to good use. “Someone who has free access – personal aides? Housekeepers? Maids? Pay some people enough and they would do anything.”

Stephen shook his head. “No, the wards wouldn’t have allowed just anybody in.”

“Then it must be someone close to you. Someone you trust.”

_Someone you trust._

Wong saw the look on Stephen’s face even before it occurred to Stephen that the answer had perhaps been staring him in the face all along.

“You need back-up?” he offered quietly.

Stephen’s lips worked to form words but his thoughts were simply racing too fast to vocalise.

“Wong, go watch your show.” Stephen finally heard himself say, numb and hollow-voiced. He slipped on his sling ring. The Cloak flew from the coat rack and settled around his shoulders. “I’ll holler if I need you.”

Wong was silent. After a short eternity, “Be careful.”

“Am I ever not?” Stephen gave a small smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

“Well, knock ‘em dead, my friend.” Wong started to butter a piece of crusty bread. “You know where I’ll be. In front of the idiot box with my kippers and my non-alcoholic beer, having a good time not fighting forces of evil.” After a beat, he added as if an afterthought, “Holding the fort for you, uh, here.”

“You’re a true friend, Wong.”

_______________________________

Stephen stood over the crib and watched his son sleep. Stian was a peaceful baby, never waking unnecessarily, save for feeding or a change. He reached down to gently flip his baby onto his back into a safer sleeping position, but in a matter of seconds, Stian had once again rolled onto his tummy into _his_ favourite sleeping position, sticking his bottom up in the air as if giving his father the proverbial one-finger salute.

Stephen chuckled softly and felt his eyes and chest burn. He struggled to contain the fury threatening to erupt from boiling over. If his suspicions had any footing in truth, he would find out very soon. For the time being he simply had to give her the benefit of the doubt.

He mumbled a spell and cast the golden shroud of protection over Stian’s sleeping form; the incantation was one of the strongest protective spells Stephen knew, tied to his own life force for good measure.

Only grievous injury to his person or death could break it.

Stephen leaned down to kiss Stian’s forehead, savouring the sweet smell of milk and baby shampoo. “I love you, buddy.”

He kissed Stian’s cheek in swift goodbye before heading back toward the adjacent master bedroom where Loki still lay in peaceful, dreamless slumber, from which he would not awaken, at least not in the next few hours.

“See you in the morning, Loki.” Stephen quickly kissed him goodbye; any longer and Stephen feared he was never going to leave. Loki did not stir. 

Stephen straightened and fingered the long strand of blond hair he had plucked off the headrest of the rocking chair in his son’s nursery just moments earlier.

“God I really hope I’m wrong about this,” he muttered to himself. And disappeared through a fiery portal into the deep night.

____________________________

Stephen found himself standing in the middle of a grassland, an open landscape as far as the eyes could see. A small, idyllic wooden cottage stood in front of him, behind which loomed a craggy, ominous mountain. Metal pots of dried and wilted flowers hung from the walls on each side of door.

The _seter_ could not have been built more than five years ago but the design was traditional, the barn adjacent to it basic and unadorned except for metal milk cans decorating its wooden walls.

Stephen did not have to wait very long for his vision to adjust to the inky blackness of the night. The moon was full. The sky was clear, with not a rain cloud to be seen. He looked at his feet.

True enough, what first appeared in the dark as icy snowflakes coating every inch of the open grass field were thousands of tiny clusters of white flowerheads, amid bud-shaped floral bracts and relatively larger, open leaves, similar to those of rose plants.

It was white snakeroot.

He looked around.

Acres of it. All around him.

A peculiar numbness began to set it, but he doubted it had anything to do with the chilly Scandinavian night air biting into his exposed face and hands. The little hairs on the back of his neck bristled.

Something was coming.

He heard it before he saw it, the sounds of metal scraping metal, tinny and grating against the dead silence of the night.

Ten yards away, a golden, hulking figure stepped out from behind the wooden barn, his armour glinting in the light of the moon.

_Uh-uh._

He had not expected Yrsa to come out brandishing cuffed hands in easy surrender, nor had he expected this.

As his adversary marched closer, Stephen realised what had made him appear so tall; his helmet sported giant, double-curved horns branching out from the sides of his head like a minotaur. A long spear, taller than its bearer, slammed into the ground as he walked.

“Stand down, Soldier.” Stephen half-heartedly tried for diplomacy, as one always should in a parlay. “By order of Thor, King of Asgard.”

The Einherjar warrior paid him no heed. And the moment he struck, Stephen was ready, parrying the spear swooping in a downward arc toward his face with a loop of golden fire, a grin fast breaking across his face –

For he needed not hold back in this battle.

The Einherjar was no human. Beneath the shrouded shadows of the helmet, his face was a grey husk of hollow sockets and hanging dead skin, barely clinging to facial bones long distorted and maimed by rot and decay.

Undead yet undeniably strong. Still. Nothing Stephen should not be able to handle –

He summoned a golden circle and slammed it into the deadwalker’s chest, sending him sliding half a metre across the grass but no further. His tattered golden cape hid his fighting hand but Stephen saw it coming and sideswiped his body, cleanly missing the thrusted spear that would have gone through his chest if he had not.

He looped an arm around the shaft of the spear and snaked his forearm all the way up the hilt, bracing it against a raised knee.

Stephen mustered all his strength and with a chopping motion, he brought his other arm down and split the shaft in two. The spear head fell harmlessly onto the ground.

But the close contact had put him in more peril than he realised when a strong hand wrapped itself around his throat and _squeezed_. The pressure behind the grip was equal to the strength of three men and Stephen began to choke. _Strike one –!_

The undead hand would have crushed his windpipe had it not been for The Cloak who whipped around his back to jab itself into where the Einherjar’s eyes used to be, the sentient cloth barrelling past the empty sockets and drilling into his brain.

Stephen dropped to his knees as the grip around his neck loosened. Coughing harshly, he barely managed to dodge the heavy boot from coming down onto the top of his head, the depression it left on the earth reminding Stephen of a small crater, and he breathed a prayer of thanks all his brains were still in one piece –

_Pick up speed, pick up speed_

The deadwalker had brute strength. Stephen had everything else.

He conjured a golden whip and lashed out, looping it around the Einherjar’s neck which bulged with the protection of his golden helmet.

Stephen poured more magic into it than he ever remembered pumping, perspiration beginning to dew on his forehead. He did not know the word so he just threw one in the language he knew, and since Latin always seemed to work…

_“Decapitat!”_

And it did.

The severed head rolled and bounced off the ground once.

Stephen took a few steps back, half-expecting the headless body to do something dramatic like burst into flames or disintegrate into ashes, but it did neither.

Nonchalantly, the headless warrior bent down, picked up his head, and screwed it back onto the cervical spine again, crepitus and all.

_O-kay._

Stephen frowned.

_Strike two. Major strike two!_

The Einherjar was on the move again, and it was block, parry, block, parry as a flurry of heavy blows came from all directions. An uppercut to the jaw had Stephen seeing stars. His golden whips did little to soften the hits and Stephen was fast losing ground.

Time for a decisive move, for he could not afford to waste time here and get himself needlessly killed. Stephen flipped himself back, giving the widest berth between the deadwalker and himself as he could without losing his advantage of speed and agility.

_If you can’t kill the body, kill the spell._

Stephen hated necromancy.

Well, who wouldn’t, raising the dead was after all _evil_ , one of the evillest deeds of all – and the ugliest of spells. To undo the dark magic was no easy feat but it could be done.

Stephen just hoped there was not going to be maggots.

Giant mandalas bloomed from his balled fists as he chanted the words to the Spell of Revelation in his heart.

The Einherjar was coming for him again.

_Good._

Stephen spread his arms apart, wide and welcoming. And waited.

A few milliseconds before the Einherjar’s fist would have landed on his chest in a devastating blow, Stephen ducked and thrusted both his hands into the Einherjar’s breastplates and launched his Spell full-force –

The ground around them exploded in pelts of soil and ripped-out white snakeroot. Stephen closed his eyes and held his breath to keep from aspirating the poisonous particles that were fast contaminating the air around him.

He teleported to safety just outside the circle of battle and waited for the geyser of energy to die down and the dust to settle.

A creak of metal against metal heralded the resounding crash that followed a split second later, as the heavy golden armour collapsed against a structure that was no longer holding it up. As the air cleared and returned Stephen’s vision, he glimpsed the numerous, elongated structures poking out from the pile of disjointed pieces of armour, polished-white and gleaming.

It was a pile of bones, human from the looks of them, the skull grinning up from underneath the helmet conferring the undeniable truth.

His heart pounded madly with exertion.

Before he could brood any further on the sheer maliciousness of the dark sorcery behind it all, a light beamed across the grass.

 It was coming from the barn.

The double doors, previously locked and chained, were ajar. It was an invitation, one Stephen knew he should, but could not refuse.

He pushed them open. They swung inward silently without a sound, sweeping away hay from the earthen floor and clearing a path toward the interior of the barn.

A rotten, nauseating smell instantly assaulted his senses and his stomach roiled. The light he saw earlier had come from a gas lantern hanging outside. It did little to illuminate the interior of the barn.

“If you’re looking for Yrsa she is not here.”

The man had his back toward him, hunched over a table, working on something on the table top.

“It was you I was dying to meet.”

“Foolish young man.” The man chuckled. His voice was certainly that of an old man, hoarse and raspy, but with his back turned, Stephen could not tell for certain. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you to think before you speak?”

Stephen was silent. The magic that lazily stirred the air around him felt dark and ancient. He strengthened the invisible layer of protective shield around himself.

The man showed no sign of alarm. Not even when Stephen sent a ball of energy up onto the rafters to cast a light over them both, fluorescent and bright.

A carcass of a cow lay on the long table. A Holstein-Friesian, from the looks of its black and white markings. The stench was emanating from its bulbous abdomen where decomposition had broken down the belly and grotesque loops of distended intestines had ruptured through, dripping black and green fluids onto the hay-covered floor.

The man put aside his knife. He wiped his hands on the leather apron wrapped around his sides.

“I see you have met my son.”

“He was not your son.”

“Not in spirit, no. His spirit is long gone.” He turned his head slightly. Stephen could not see it, but he could swear the man was wearing a sneer from the way his voice mocked his own spine-chilling words. “Thanks to your _Prince.”_

The man finally turned.

He had to be in his seventies at least, his aquiline nose prominent against a face, rough and haggard, weathered with age, hatred, and – deep sorrow. It was not someone Stephen recognised, but the look in his eyes was one Stephen had seen many, many times in his line of work.

This man had suffered a loss, the deepest loss man could ever suffer in his lifetime. The death of a loved one.

Loki was right. This _was_ personal.

“You do not know me, Sorcerer.” The elderly man explained, almost kindly. “You would not.”

“Does Loki know you?”

“I know not.” The man waved a hand derisively. Now that the barn was brightly lit, Stephen could see the nodules dotting both the palm and the back of his hand. “I _care_ not.”

“But it is a shame that you came alone.” The old man appeared almost worried _for_ him. “You should have brought the Prince with you.”

“Loki is never going to come within a foot of you.”

“Oh yes he will.” The old man’s watery blue eyes hardened slowly. “When I string your corpse and that of your son from my rafters.”

Stephen’s blood turned to ice in his veins. Unconsciously, he deepened his breaths and centered his Chakras. His senses tingled in anticipation of upcoming battle.

_“Loki.”_

Only static and silence.

 _“Loki.”_ He tried again before he remembered that Loki was in very deep sleep, thanks to the draught Stephen himself had made him drink.

Stephen did not know whether to congratulate or berate himself. All he knew was they were all in danger and he could only hope his shields around himself _and_ his son back at the nursery would hold.

The old man took an involuntary step back, his frail form pushed back by the waves of energy radiating from Stephen’s core and he knocked his back against the table. His freckled hand grappled for purchase and pawed a loop of intestines that squelched under his palm.

“ _My, my.”_ He sneered, not fearful in the slightest despite Stephen’s blatant display of power. “All that raw energy. Nothing could touch you now.”

Stephen frowned.

The old man reached down once more for the knife he had left on the table –

Stephen raised a hand to block –

The old man hissed, “Not from the outside _at least!”_

and drove the knife into the dead cattle’s belly.

And a hot surge of pain tore through Stephen’s abdomen, sharp and blinding. A silent scream grated against his throat as he fought for breath, his gasps harsh and laboured.

With a cackle, the old man withdrew the knife, and stabbed the cow again.

This time Stephen could not hold back a scream as the agony drove him to his knees. He felt like he was being gutted alive. His magic flew crazily around him trying to fend off the invisible knives that were never there in the first place.

He could not breathe, let alone think; he had never felt such agonising pain, not even when he died time and time again at the hands of Dormammu had the pain been this intense. Black spots danced in front of his eyes as bile and blood rose in his gullet.

_“Loki…”_

He called again but it travelled across the connection weak and thready.

The dark sorcerer stabbed the cow again. And again.

Blood, black as ichor, spewed from Stephen’s lips. As he tumbled to the floor The Cloak caught his body as he collapsed, cushioning his head and preventing it from slamming into the ground. He bargained with his burning insides for one last breath of mercy and

_“LOKI!!!”_


	16. Cruel Is the Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen and Loki venture deep into the recesses of Loki's mind, to seek the one true magic that could save their unborn daughter.

_Glencoe, Scotland. Present Time_

 

So much for no mountain climbing, was Stephen’s first numb thought upon stepping out of the Portal and finding himself greeted by a frigid blast of cold mountain air.

“Loki, please tell me you’re alright,” he begged. “All the more important if you’re actually not.”

“This is not the kind of ailment you can fix, Strange.” As if on cue, Loki doubled over and would have fallen to his knees had Stephen not caught him. True enough, as Stephen’s hand searched Loki’s midsection for the source of pain, it came upon a hard, tense abdomen.

“How long have you been having contractions, Loki?” Stephen’s heart pounded wildly in his chest.

Loki did not answer.

So. Stephen’s second, even more numbing thought was that Loki was having premature contractions, right here in the wilderness, smack in the middle of nowhere with not so much as an oxygen tank.

It was a nightmare right out of Man VS Wild, as Wong would probably say whenever he felt like being helpful.

After a few long seconds, Loki finally straightened, his breaths ragged. “We haven’t got much time.”

“Time for what exactly?”

“Time to remember.” Loki began to climb. “If you want to save our daughter, we need to hurry.”

Stephen’s internal clock told them they had only climbed for ten minutes at most before Loki finally stopped, but to him it felt like hours. They were now standing on a precarious ridge overlooking the valley; just a footstep out of turn and they would plummet some three hundred feet into the ravine below.

“Do you see it, Stephen?” Loki’s face had gone grey with pain.

He wanted nothing more than teleport them both back to New York, to Christine. He swept his eyes across the barren landscape, seeing nothing but rolling hills and the long, tortuous narrow valley below.

“See what, Loki?” Stephen shook his head in helpless frustration.

Loki hissed, “Open your _eyes_!” A hand suddenly slammed into his forehead.

Stephen’s eyes flew open. The sky above them was now pitch black.

And the hills around them were _burning_.

Smoke and soot assaulted his airways and Stephen choked back a cough, his eyes instantly watering. He could barely see Loki standing beside him for all the smoke.

“Where are we?” he gasped.

After a beat, he caught himself. “ _When_ are we?”

“We are now standing on the Battlefields of Glencoe, in the wee hours of the morning of a deep winter’s night. It is February the twelfth, and the year is 1692.” Loki said calmly.

“Did you take us back in _time_?”

“Of course not,” Loki scoffed. “What you are seeing…are my memories.”

Bewildered, Stephen turned to look at him, and did a double take.

A Loki from another time stared back at him; very young, hair short and slicked back to expose a high forehead and the sharp cut of his cheekbones. Dressed all in black, he was rail-thin, and nearly as tall as the Loki Stephen had come to know.

Without thinking, Stephen reached out to touch, and his fingers palmed a very flat stomach where his daughter was supposed to be.

“You are in my head, Stephen. What you see, and what you hear is real, and at the same time, not.”

Screams suddenly pierced through the silence of the night, distant yet painfully close.

Stephen’s head whipped around and looked on in horror as he saw men, women, and children, all barefoot and clad in nothing but the sleeping clothes on their backs, clamber up the sides of the mountain into the heavy snow. Their houses burnt, nothing more than little dots of fire along the narrow, snowed-in valley.

He looked in the distance at the river that could have doused the flames. It was frozen solid. “What am I looking at? Arson?”

Loki shook his head slowly.

“You are looking at a Massacre.” Flames danced in his eyes. “Some are already dead in their home, throats slit while they slept.”

“What happened here?” Stephen could not take his eyes away. In the distant he could make out the glint of metal against metal as swords clashed, and the fiery sparks of muskets firing into the inky blackness of the night.

“It was a time of conflict between the supporters of King William III of England, and the Jacobites who rallied behind the French-backed House of Stuart as the rightful heir to the throne of England, Scotland and Ireland.”

“Two weeks ago, the King offered a Royal Pardon for the remaining Scottish clans yet to swear allegiance to him, promising severe retribution against those who would not.”  

A blood-curdling scream shattered the air as a musket round found its target. Loki watched with unblinking eyes.

“It was a terrible winter and for days on end, the MacIains of Glencoe had been snowed in, right here in this very narrow valley. In the end, their Chief was delayed in taking the Oath by a day.”

Loki breathed out slowly. “Only a day, and they were slaughtered anyway to set an example.”

“Those who did not die from the swing of a sword died out here.” Loki tipped his head left to right. “Froze to death in the snow.”

“And you came here because?” Stephen’s forehead wrinkled.

“I wanted to watch,” Loki said simply.

“So what was your name then, at this time and place?”

“Loki.”

“This Loki?” Stephen looked him up and down, and Loki knew Stephen did not mean the way he looked.

A beat, “Yes.”

The sound of faint sobbing caught his attention. Stephen squinted as he struggled to make out shapes and shadows, the whiteout making it difficult to see beyond fifty yards in front of them. Despite sensing the cries becoming closer, they became quieter, as if someone was trying to stifle them, for fear of being heard.

Then Stephen caught sight of her.

Some twenty yards away, he saw a young maiden, dressed only in her nightgown, climb over the treacherous rocks, her hands and feet bare, with three English soldiers hard on her heels.

Stephen glimpsed her face, pale and frightened, her hair a burnished red, as red as the fire of the burning torches the soldiers wielded high above her head as one of them managed to grab her ankle and she fell facedown onto the snow.

Her scream of terror shattered the night air, and at the sound of her voice, Stephen’s heart skipped.

“Is that –” His breath caught in his throat. “That’s her, isn’t it.”

He blanched. “The Ancient One.”

“Not very ancient yet, as you can see.” Loki’s eyes had gone soft. “Barely fifteen. Fourteen if you’re feeling pedantic.”

The young girl whimpered as one of the soldiers ripped the gown clean off her back, revealing a bony white shoulder. He flipped her over roughly, and the wind carried the cracking sound her head made as it slammed against a snow-covered rock.

The soldier held a bayonet high over his head, its razor-sharp tip glinting in the dark.

“No,” Stephen whispered in horror, taking an involuntary step forward, despite knowing he could not, should not interfere –

And a blast of seidr seared his cheek as it barrelled past his face, and slammed into the soldier’s chest, sending him tumbling down into the ravine behind him.

“Loki, what are you doing?”

“Hush, Strange.” And Loki swept past him, swift as the wind, his daggers glinting in his hands.

In a matter of seconds, he had dispatched of the remaining two soldiers, their blood black and thick as it seeped into the snow, spurting from the matching gashes across their throats.

His heart pounding, Stephen was about to run over to where Loki had crouched over the girl when Loki held out a hand, halting him in his tracks.

_“That’s far enough. Do not let her see you.”_

And Loki began to speak.

The language Loki spoke was not English but somehow Stephen could understand every word of it. It was the Allspeak, he realised. He was listening to the conversation as Loki would have heard it that night.

“Thank you, good S-Sir,” she stammered, both from sheer terror and the cold alike. She wrapped whatever was left of her tattered nightgown around herself to preserve what modesty she had left, and shivered violently.

“What is your name?” Loki asked softly. She could not speak for the uncontrollable chattering of her teeth.

Loki conjured a thick blanket from thin air and was about to wrap it around her when he gasped suddenly, dropping from kneeling on one knee down onto all fours.

Out the corner of his eye, he could see Stephen taking a step forward.

_“Stephen, don’t! The timeline –”_

Loki let out a long, painful moan.

The girl leaped forward to grab his shoulders to keep him from slumping to the ground. “Sir, are you alright?”

Upon physical contact, she froze.

Loki could feel his seidr stirring lazily under her hands that remained clasped to his shoulders, but something in her eyes changed. “I know you.”

She searched his face, her pale blue eyes wide and unblinking. “I have seen you in my dreams.”

Loki gritted his teeth against the pain wracking his abdomen. “Tell me your name,” he repeated his question breathlessly, the urgency in his voice unmistakable.

She sounded almost puzzled. “You know my name.”

“Say it,” he pleaded. “Say it anyway. Please.”

Seeing the desperation in his eyes, she allowed her hands to fall away from his shoulders, only to wrap her arms around Loki’s neck as she helped him upright, her red hair tumbling down her bare back, scraped and bloodied from the rocks.

She pressed her lips to his temple, and whispered in his ear.

It was the magic of her name that he needed, and upon receiving it, Loki’s eyes suddenly glowed a brilliant golden yellow.

Waves of seidr began to emanate from their huddled forms, his green, hers the familiar golden of mystical energy Stephen had always associated with his own; all of sudden they merged into a blinding sphere of white, so bright and sudden Stephen hissed, rearing his head and shielding his eyes with his forearm

As Stephen’s arm fell away from his face, he found himself standing once more on the barren hill, but it was covered by snow no longer, for it had melted some three hundred and fifty years ago.

The sun hung low, and the clouds lower, casting great shadows over the bens around them. He braved a step forward and peered over the edge.

Where just a few seconds ago houses had stood fast burning into cinders in the dead of night, now in their place were desolate barren highlands, quiet and still. Yet Stephen could still hear the screams echoing in his head, louder if he closed his eyes. He kept them open.

He had walked in Loki’s dreams before, but never memories. He did not know if he ever wanted to do it again.

And from the look on Loki’s ashen face, he doubted Loki would ever want to do it again either. At least, the colour of his eyes had returned to his usual green.

Stephen slowly sank to the ground next to his husband who was sitting on his haunches with his long legs straight out in front of him, leaning back on his hands and looking completely wiped out.

Stephen immediately reached for his unborn daughter, and to his immense relief, the flesh under his palm yielded readily. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

The withering look in Loki’s eyes could not mean anything other than ‘I am Loki. I do what I want.’

Still, there was no stopping himself once he had started ranting, “You have created a branched timeline, a completely new reality –”

“Any new reality was better than having her lose her life that night, along with her parents, all her brothers and sisters and the rest of her clan.”

“You ended up prolonging it.” Stephen counted silently in his head. “By several centuries.”

“Yes.” Loki did not look the slightest bit guilty.

“Your paths should not have crossed.” Stephen knew it was futile, he could not possibly undo what Loki had done eons ago. “By saving her life, you have altered her destiny, _both_ your destinies!”

“And yet our overlapping destinies have brought us together,” Loki said calmly. “If I had not saved her, she would not have become the Sorcerer Supreme. You would never have met her, and she would never have saved you.”

“We would never have met.” Loki’s hand reached for his, and Stephen found his hand pressed once more to the soft curve of Loki’s stomach. “And our daughter would have died in my belly tonight, and we would have a stillborn instead of the perfect little princess we have been hoping for.”

“What?” His heart began to thunder in his chest. “Loki, let’s go back, we need to get you checked out –”

“No. Not yet. I am not done yet.”

“What are you talking about?” The frustration was rearing its head once more, threatening to swallow Stephen whole.

“Her magic’s not done healing me. I need to stay here just a little bit longer.” Loki visibly shivered as a chill ran through his body.

“Whose magic?” Stephen gave the Cloak a pat, and it immediately flew to drape over Loki’s shoulders. “The Ancient One?”

“This was where her powers were first awakened, Stephen.” Loki tightened the Cloak around him gratefully. “She knew I was coming. Her magic, it was waiting for me.”

Stephen stared at him, flabbergasted. Then his eyes hardened. “No.”

“No. You _couldn’t_ have known what was going to happen this far ahead. You saved her for a reason.” The sceptic in him demanded a different answer. “What was it?”

Loki’s eyes shadowed over. His lips parted, and closed again, clearly reluctant to speak.

“What was it, Loki?”

It took a moment but Loki finally answered. “It was love.”

Loki turned to look at him, and despite his answer, Stephen saw nothing in his green eyes but sorrow.

“Love?”

“I have loved many before you, Stephen. Each one different and special in her own way.” Loki’s gaze dropped to the ground, taking on the distant, glazed look of reminiscence. “As I leave every one behind, some memories remain. I try to keep them separate, but as centuries passed, they become a jumble in my head. Once they get too much, I let them…slip.”

Loki lifted his chin, back in the present once more. “But I remember their faces. Each and every one of them.”

Stephen’s thought processes came to a conclusion that was immediately met with an incredulity he did not expect. “You saved her because she looked like your ex-lover?”

“No. Not just because she looked like her. She _was_ her.” Loki said imploringly. “I felt it in my soul the very moment I saw her.”

“You are talking of reincarnation.”

Loki looked thoughtful. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

“That is impossible.”

“Is it? Yet you believe I was Lugh.”

“You just changed personalities, Loki, that’s a totally different thing altogether. It even has its own chapter in psychiatry textbooks.” There were still some things his analytical and scientific brain could not wrap his head around despite his calling as the Sorcerer Supreme. “You would have had to die before you could claim yourself reborn.”

“Who says I didn’t?” Loki asked lightly. He inhaled deeply. For some reason, he felt slightly woozy.

“You need to give me more, Loki,” Stephen said gravely. “More truths. Not secrets.”

_Secrets._

As if the sudden burden of having to divulge them was physically strenuous, Loki began to list sideways and Stephen immediately wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Strange, do you know why, out of all my Names, the God of Mischief was the one that stuck?”

Loki did not wait for Stephen to answer.  

“Because I could not stay away from the world of man. Whenever I got tired or bored of being the Worshipped, I would become the Worshipper. I would become one of you,” Loki said calmly. “Just because I could.”

“I would leave Asgard for years on end, and no one would bat an eye. Oh, there goes the Second Prince, off on one of his little adventures, they would say,” Loki said viciously. “Thor never liked not knowing where I was, and whenever it rained hail and fury, I knew it was time to check in. I would pop back to Asgard, show my face, and once my family was satisfied that I was still alive and had gone back to ignoring me, I would pop back out again.”

“And I reveled in walking amongst you, taking on persona after persona, living out each lifetime in its entirety so I could create my own ending, make my own stories…” Loki’s voice trailed. His eyes danced. “Oh those were the days, Stephen.”

“But sometimes those stories ended badly. Tragic tales that would become the food of bards, spun out of truths and lies alike, that soon became too fantastic to be believed.” Loki pursed his lips. “It is a blessing in disguise for if you only knew what some of my past lives had done, you would not bear to even look at me, let alone betroth yourself unto me.”

Loki laced their fingers together. “You are a brave man, Stephen Strange.”

“I try not to fear the unknown.” Stephen reached up to sweep a lock of black hair away from Loki’s eyes. “I only fear not being able to protect you, just because you fear sharing the unknown with me.”

Loki stared at him long and hard, and Stephen imagined he could hear the wheels of internal debate turning in his husband’s fantastical mind.

“How good are you with your Irish mythology, Stephen?” Loki asked, finally.

“Not very, I’m afraid,” Stephen admitted readily. “I kinda skipped I, jumped straight to Lo-Lu the last time I was down at the archives.”

“I’m flattered.” Loki laughed, all traces of hesitation disappearing behind his smile. “That’s how you knew Lugh.”

“Lugh was C. Under Celtic.”

“Ah.” He nodded once, before all mirth left him and his eyes clouded once more. “Then surely you have heard of Cúchulainn.”

“The mythical Irish warrior?” Stephen’s forehead wrinkled as he tried to recall. “Of the great Irish medieval saga, the Ulster Cycle?”

“Oh, _do_ make me blush, Strange.”

“A warrior of such prowess some say he is the son of Lugh, even going as far as to say that he is the Reincarnation of…Lugh…” Stephen’s voice trailed, as the meaning of Loki’s words sank in, “No.”

“I am one and the same.”

“You _can’t_ be him.”

Loki’s smile only dipped slightly. “I do not remember _being_ him, not at present, no. But from time to time, I see bits and pieces, like echoes of someone else’s life, more so if I were to wake in an unfamiliar place…”

“Rarely, it comes back full-force when something jolts me into the past, like being here, back in this place.” Loki unconsciously placed a hand on his cheek and closed his eyes. “It’s like…having someone else’s memories inside your head. They don’t feel like yours, but you feel…accountable all the same.”

Stephen pulled back slightly to gaze at him in wonder. “How can you walk around with centuries upon centuries worth of memories in your head and not go insane?”

Loki had to laugh. “Have you met me?”

Stephen caught himself short. Loki waved a hand. “No matter.”

“What matters is that I remember most of what he did.” Loki’s voice had gone from melancholic to heavily-tinged with regret. “Or what _I_ did, rather.”

Hugging him closer, Stephen planted his chin on top of Loki’s head. “Tell me about him.”

Loki took a deep breath, bracing himself for the worst. “You will hate me.”

Stephen did not bother getting all indignant and offended as he normally would. “Tell me anyway,” he said softly.

Loki fingered a nick on the side of Stephen’s neck where he had cut himself shaving. Loki would need to do it for him from now on.

He would need to choose his words carefully then, if only to sway Stephen into hating him a little less once his tale was over.

“I did not just materialise into human history as the mighty Ulster hero I later became known as, you know.” Loki sounded almost proud. “I did it the hard way.”

“Scáthach was a legendary Scottish warrior-queen, renowned for her mastery of martial arts, a mentor so fearsome more died than survived her training regimen. You might have come across her in your reading, Doctor.”

Stephen gave a noncommittal nod.

“She trained me in combat at her great castle, Dún Scáith, or the Fortress of Shadows, they call it in secret. How it once stood proud and impenetrable at the very heart of Skye.”

“Oh, I wish you could have seen it, Stephen, if only it remained standing to this day,” Loki gave an exalted sigh. “But alas, what remains of Skye is what you have seen on our…sort-of honeymoon.”

“I will always remember it.”

“Yes, I suppose you will.” Loki tilted his head for a kiss. Stephen obliged. “You saved my life there.”

But despite the kiss, the flutter of butterflies in his stomach did not take flight. His eyes dimmed.

“On that island, Cúchulainn met her sister.” Loki’s voice sounded strangely hollow. “Aífe.”

“Aífe was a rival warrior-queen who had come to challenge her sister in battle. As I was Scáthach’s champion, I took it upon myself to face her in combat.”

Stephen guessed. “You bested her.”

“I did, yes.” Loki’s eyes glazed over. “And as I held my blade to her throat, I made a bargain.”

Stephen frowned. This time he did not venture another guess. He waited.

“Her life, for a son.”

Loki swallowed hard. His throat was as dry as sandpaper. “Cúchulainn left her alone and with child, and returned to Ireland to marry another, a lady his fellow Ulstermen had chosen to be his wife, Emer.”

“Aífe’s wrath ran as dark and icy as storm clouds over a frozen loch in the depth of winter.” Loki’s voice betrayed the slightest shake. “For upon the son she bore, she swore that my life will justly be forfeit.”

Loki gave a mirthless chuckle. “My tempestuous lover, with hair as red as was the fire in her belly, together with Scáthach raised Connla to be a warrior for only one purpose. To exact revenge.”

“On you?”

“Yes.”

“Many years passed and my son fully grown, Aífe sent him forth to seek me in Ireland, but before he departed, she placed three sacred geas on him.”

Stephen felt Loki shudder as he exhaled. “Connla was to never give way to any man. He must never be the first to give his name. And he must never say no when challenged to a fight, even if it was to the death.”

“But why? Why would she have done that?” Stephen wondered aloud, trying but failing to understand.

“Perhaps the pain in her heart was so great she wished to inflict upon me a pain worse than death?” Loki gave a little shrug. “Then again, who knows with women.”

Stephen was quiet, but still very much disturbed; he did not like where this tale was going.

“Connla anchored on Baile’s strand, near Dun Dealgan, all dressed in the fineries of a Scots warrior. And as Fate would have it, the entire court of Ulster was there, celebrating the first harvest and appealing to the God Lugh to safely bring it in – ” Loki’s breath caught in his chest, “And there he was.”

“The finest-looking young man I had ever seen, with the fairest of skin, and the blackest of hair...but I did not know, I did not realise…” Loki closed his hands over his face. When they fell away, his eyes were red.

“For when the King of Ulster asked him his name, and he refused to give it, he was naturally deemed a foe,” Loki said bitterly. “Ever eager to put him in his place for having insulted the King, one the great warriors of Ulster, Conall Cearnach, challenged Connla to a fight.”

“And Connla defeated him,” Stephen said with growing dread. He could see now where this was heading.

Loki nodded. “With ease.” His eyes began to fill. “Who else did the King send forth then to face this stranger but his greatest warrior, Cúchulainn?”

“Emer recognised something in Connla, she suspected that he was my son by the other woman, and begged me to spare him. And I, in turn, begged the boy to give me his name, for I had no desire whatsoever to strike him, let alone kill him over such a _petty_ little thing…” Loki’s voice choked as he reined in a sob as the memories flooded in, overwhelming and suffocating, but he could not stop now, he must continue –

“With his dying breath, Connla revealed his identity.” Loki’s voice died down to a whisper. “In his cold, dead palm was the gold ring I had given Aífe, on the night we made him.”

Loki pulled away from his husband’s embrace in utter shame. He burrowed deeper into the Cloak, hiding his face as best as he could. “And that, Stephen, was the price of mischief. I have paid the highest price of all.”

“I slaughtered my own son.”

After a long eternity,

“You did not know he was your son.”

“And that makes it alright?” Loki laughed despite the tears running down his face. “I still delivered the killing blow.”

“Context is everything, Loki.” Stephen shook his head stubbornly.

“You wanted to see me layer by layer, Stephen. Well, now you have.” Loki pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“You’re five years too late to use such scare tactics on me, Odinson.” A strong arm slowly found its way around Loki’s shoulders once more. “They won’t work anymore.”

 His hands fell away from his face. Loki turned and stared at him in wonder. “How can you still love me, knowing what you know now?”

“How can I not?”  

“You are a good man.” Loki said blatantly. “I am a monster.”

“I cannot judge you based on what you did in your past lives, Loki. I will not.” Stephen shook his head. “It would not be fair on you.”

“Why not?” Loki was genuinely confounded. “They were all me.”

“They were you, before you became my Loki.”

Loki’s heart skipped a beat. “Your Loki?”

“I claimed you as mine when I married you.” Stephen kissed his forehead. “You are mine to have until the end of my life.”

“And be it a blessing or a curse, I have only one life to live, and in my short lifetime, I too, have done terrible deeds.” Stephen took a deep breath. “I have taken lives, when I vowed to do no harm. In my arrogance, I have brought people back from the dead. I reversed timelines and realities, I peeked into the future, millions of futures, for purely selfish reasons that I later shamelessly justified as my prerogative, befitting my station as the Sorcerer Supreme.”

Stephen asked him serenely, “Can you imagine the things I would do if I were to live for another thousand years?”

“No, Stephen, what you have done, it was all for the greater good.” Loki shook his head vehemently. “It had to be done. You cannot fault yourself for something that simply had to be done.”

“And now I want you to listen to yourself.”

“What?”

“Do you judge me for the sins I have done in the past, before I met you?”

“No.”

“Do you love me in spite of all the sins I have done in the past, before I met you?”

A soft, adamant “Yes.”

“So how could you expect me to feel any differently about you?”

Despite having dried not a minute ago, Loki’s eyes misted once more.

“I will never be your equal, Loki. Just on the basis of my genetic makeup I am no match, the years you’ve lived, the things you’ve seen and done, the multiverse you’ve traveled…” Stephen’s thumb traced the hollow of his cheek.

“I will never be able to fathom what it must feel like to have lived a thousand years but I suspect, and this is just an educated guess of course because I am an educated man, that you _needed_ to have these different personalities,” Stephen stressed. “You lived under so many names, lived each lifetime as you said till the end and started a new one right after, for what else could you do?”

“I would go mad if I have to be stuck being the same person for a thousand years. Don’t you think so?”

“I…suppose?”

“And your past lives, your stories, are just that. Stories. They made you who you are today.” Stephen pressed their foreheads together. “And I know our story will be just as fantastic, when you look back on it. When I’m long dead and gone.”

Loki felt suddenly giddy. “Stephen…”

“Fate brought us together, strangers in every sense of the word. We made a child on a lust-driven night, survived battle after battle, foe after foe, to reach where we are today. And here you are,” Stephen’s hand reverently cradled the curve of his stomach – “Carrying our second child in your belly, and I am telling you, I cannot be any happier.”

“You can.” Loki’s eyes finally lit up. He smiled in the way one would when one had a juicy secret to share. “If I tell you that she is going to be okay.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told you there was power in a name, Stephen.” He breathed in deeply, savouring the refreshingly cold, clean air. “The Ancient One made me a promise. She bargained her name away for she knew that one day I would need it.”

Loki gently laid a hand on his belly. “Aífe is going to be okay.”

“Aífe.” Stephen’s eyes misted. His hand moved to touch the slight bulge in Loki’s side he knew was the imprint of his daughter’s head, and caressed it lightly.

Stephen teased it with a little magic and the bulge shifted. He smiled in delight. “I like that. I like that a lot.”

“Better than Sekhmet?” Loki could not help but tease. “Or Stevia?”

Stephen rolled his eyes, “A _bajillion_ times better.”

“You do know Stevia is the name of a plant?” Stephen dead-panned. “And a food additive?”

Loki laughed softly. “I thought it sounded quite nice.”

They chuckled again. Despite the sudden lift in the atmosphere, Stephen could not help but worry.

“Will it not remind you of her? The original Aífe I mean?” Stephen asked in concern. “Won’t it be painful for you?”

“No. Not anymore.” Loki’s eyes felt so heavy, yet his heart was as light as a feather. “It is a cycle, one that has nearly come to a close.”

“I hurt her. She hurt me. It took the death of our son to settle the score.” Loki closed his eyes at the memory. “I forgave her and saved her life, reincarnated though she may be. She forgave me, and saved our daughter in return.”

Stephen could see him roll his eyes under his closed eyelids. “Cryptic witch, that one. Gave me some obscure message about us some two hundred years ago, and expect me to remember? _Goodness_.”

“I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

Stephen’s throat went suddenly dry. “The Ancient One…she foresaw us? Together?”

“She foresaw many things, told me very little, for I myself wanted to know little.” His forehead wrinkled as he tried to recall the conversation from eons ago, over tea no less, “She told me of love.”

He reopened his eyes. It was coming back now. “One of the great loves of my life. The greatest, in fact.”

“You and her?” Four years married and still Stephen could have a ways to go before he could completely rein in his jealous streak.

But Loki should not tease, not when he could wipe the crestfallen look off Stephen’s face with words and Loki knew just the right ones to say.

“She told me _he_ would be handsome.” A knowing smile graced his lips. “ _Very_ handsome.”

Stephen stared at him for what felt like eternity, and all of a sudden, Stephen's lips were locked onto his in a hard, brusing kiss -

“She didn’t mention you by name, though,” Loki said breathlessly, as they broke apart for a millisecond, “So it could still be someone else – _hngh_!”

Stephen pushed him none too gently onto the hard ground, and it had Loki seeing stars.

“Stephen –”

Loki fisted the front of Stephen’s tunic and gasped in a breath before Stephen claimed his lips once more.

The magic had run its course. He was ready to go home now.

The pains he had been having in his stomach had all but disappeared, yet he felt strangely light-headed. He squeezed his eyes shut to see if he could shake it off, but that seemed to only make it worse. His head spun.

Loki’s vision blurred in and out of focus as he tried his best to respond to Stephen’s kisses but he could not muster much beyond parting his lips to steal little gasps of breath.

Mistaking it for consent, Stephen slipped in his tongue, and Loki would have moaned both in pleasure and in panic had Stephen not cut off all his air…but the panic was subdued, muted, like he was drowning on dry land.

Dimly, he could hear Stephen call his name, but he could not for the life of him answer. His hands slipped from their grasp, and flopped limply to his side.

Stephen called his name once more, urgently this time, but Loki was already fading.

_“Loki!”_

Stephen was shouting inside his head now, but he was too far gone.

Loki gave in completely to the darkness and slipped into blissful oblivion.

____________________________

_Manhattan, New York._

 

“I think he’s coming around.” Loki heard someone say. Faces swam in and out of focus, voices dimmed high and low like a mistuned radio.

“Yep, he’s coming around, alright. Hey, snowflake, why don’t you open your eyes for us, huh?” Another voice, gratingly familiar. Stark, he groaned inwardly.

“Loki?” The bespectacled face of a man loomed over his, suddenly blocking the bright light overhead and Loki sighed in relief.

“Strange!” Tony stuck his head through the giant portal. “You’d better get your ass back here. Snow White’s waking up!”

“Don’t call me that,” Loki growled, trying to sound mean but it came across weak as a kitten.

“Oh good. Now I know he’s really back with us.”

Through bleary eyes, Loki watched as Stephen wheeled a machine the shape and size of a shoebox through the portal, his grey eyes instantly lighting up the moment their eyes met. “Loki.”

Stephen parked the cardiotocograph machine against a wall and dropped into a stool by the bed. He looked as though he had aged overnight. “You scared the hell out of me, Loki.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah. I wasn’t scared at all. I get people dropping in with their unconscious, pregnant alien husbands all the time,” Tony quipped from where he was leaning against the wall.

Loki glared at him, but directed the question at his husband. “Stephen, why am I here?”

“You’re here because you fainted and we need to find out why.” Bruce plugged the cardiotocograph machine in, hitting it with the heel of his hand once, twice, when it refused to start. “Shit, I think this thing’s broken…”

“I didn’t faint.” Loki sniffed. “I don’t faint.”

“Right. So what were you doing just before you closed your eyes really tightly and let yourself go all limp and sent your husband into panic overdrive, anyway?”

“Nothing,” Loki said sullenly. “Just walking down memory lane.”

“More like climbing a memory mountain,” Stephen muttered darkly.

“I will err on the side of caution and take the literal meaning behind what you just said.” Bruce tried to make himself look as cross as possible. “Why did you think climbing a mountain in your condition was a good idea in the first place?”

“I don’t have a condition –” Loki began heatedly.

“You’re malnourished, underweight, anaemic – ” Bruce ticked off his mental list.

“Don’t forget crazy.” Stark half-mumbled under his breath.

“Why are you still here, Stark?” Loki seethed

Tony raised his hands in surrender, “I’ll order in. Pizza sound good? Okay.” Without waiting for an answer, he quickly slipped out of the medical bay.

Apparently, Bruce was far from done with his list, “And has it ever occurred to you that you’re also thirty weeks pregnant?”

“Wow. Really.” Loki dead-panned. “I thought I was just gassy.”

Bruce shook his head. Apparently he had no receptors in his brain for snark. “No wonder you fainted. The air is thin at such high altitude.”

He looked at Stephen somewhat accusingly. Sorcerer Supreme or not, he was not going to get away either. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Caught between a rock and a hard place, Stephen could only say the one thing that could acquit him of all blame. “Loki does what Loki wants, you know that.”

Bruce sighed, and took off his spectacles, rubbing the lenses against the breast of his shirt. “We can only hope there is no lasting effect on the baby.”

“She’s fine.” Loki closed his eyes. “I can feel it.”

“Let’s take a look then, shall we.” Bruce waited until Loki lost his outer leathers and reluctantly lifted his undershirt in implied consent. Bruce deftly handled the probe as he brought the first images of their daughter onto the screen.

Loki sank his head back against the pillow and smiled as Aífe wiggled and tumbled and cartwheeled away every time Bruce’s probe came close to getting a clear image.

“She’s a feisty one, isn’t she?” Bruce chuckled. “Much more active than the last time I saw her.”

“Now that’s interesting.” He pointed at something on the monitor. “The placental calcifications seem to have disappeared. See?”

“I think you might be right, Dr Banner,” Stephen marvelled. “But they aren’t usually reversible. How can they be gone?”

“Ultrasound artifacts?” Bruce ventured a guess.

“Over several scans using different machines? Unlikely.”

“I told you. She’s fine.” But of course, no one ever listened to Loki.

“The amniotic fluid’s back to normal levels too.”

“And would you look at that,” Bruce continued, his voice tinged in amazement. “The umbilical artery Doppler’s showing more or less normal perfusion across the placenta now.”

“Banner, I could kiss you right now.” Stephen broke into a huge smile. “That is the best news I’ve heard in weeks.”

“Don’t kiss me, kiss him.” Bruce pointed the probe at his patient.

And Stephen did just that.

“Loki, she’s going to be fine,” Stephen’s eyes shone.

He grabbed Loki’s hand and kissed the back of it softly. He could feel the tension and the anxiety that had built up over the months melt away, little by little. “She’s going to be just fine.”

Loki rolled his eyes. His husband was such a softie.

_“Duh.”_


	17. Sins of The Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki comes face-to-face with the foe and makes a choice.

_New Asgard, Present Time_

 

“You need anything else?”

Loki placed the book he was reading face-down on his belly.

“No, I think you’ve covered pretty much everything.” Loki suspiciously surveyed the spread on the table. “You can lock me in and let me out after a week and I’d probably still be eating through this.”

Stephen looked at him contemplatively. “Or I could call them and cancel…”

“Honestly, Strange, I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself while you…hang out with your guy buddies and do whatever it is you mortals do for fun.” Loki blinked. “What are you doing anyway?”

A look of horror dawned on his face, “It’s not someone’s wedding again, is it?”

“Well, Stark bought our son a Celestron AstroMaster 114 EQ Reflector Telescope for his upcoming birthday...”

“He did what for Stian a what?”

“Well…he’s made it his mission to win the Favourite Uncle of the Year Award after all. I think he’s trying to outdo Bruce’s ‘Scientific Explorer's My First Mind-Blowing Science Kit’ and Thor’s Connemara pony _– ”_

“Oh my _Lord_...” Loki sank his head back against his tower of pillows.

“So we’re going to go out onto the cliff, put the barbeque on, and do some –”

“Thor is going to be _pissed_.”

“Stargazing.”

“How delightful–” Loki could not help himself, “ -ly inane.”

Stephen’s eyebrows shot up to disappear into his hairline.

“I’m guessing you won’t be joining us for a drink or two, then,” he asked dryly.

“I come from the stars,” Loki said snootily. “Gazing at stars is like, you humans gazing down and marvelling at the earth at your feet.”

“O-kay,” Stephen drawled, putting on a show at being half-offended. He could not resist stealing a kiss though. “Okay, my sexy alien. Just don’t ever let Stian hear you say that or you’ll break his half-human, half-alien heart.”

“That was a bit callous, wasn’t it.” Loki winced. He lifted his swollen ankles onto the pouffe gingerly. “Do me a favour and don’t quote me on that. Stian’s sensitive and clingy enough as it is, now that this is all starting to become real to him.”

“I promise I’ll try to keep him out of your hair for at least a few hours tonight.” Stephen sat himself precariously on the edge of the pouffe and picked up Loki’s ankles and proceeded to knead the soles of his feet gently. “Give you a chance for a breather.”

Loki groaned softly, leaning his head back in pleasure. “Has anyone ever told you that you have magic hands, Doctor?”

Stephen frowned. “Maybe I should stay, Stian should be fine with Thor. You’re making those funny faces again, the ones I don’t like.”

“Oh for Norns’ sake, Stephen, it is nothing,” Loki growled. “It’s just those damn Braxton-Hickies –”

“All the more reason why you shouldn’t be alone. You are oblivious to your own body signals.”

Loki took the high road and chose only to smile benignly. “One, I’m never alone. I have guards standing outside, and the Valkyrie just next door. Two, I am more than capable of taking care of myself. Three, it’s not like you’re on a different planet that you can’t portal to me in a flash.”

He stopped for a breath. “Four, please clarify as sweetly as you can what you meant by ‘oblivious.’ You have until tomorrow morning.”

Stephen opened his mouth to speak but Loki stopped him with an elegant lift of his finger.

“Five, there’s always the Mindspeak if ever I get bored of reading and feel like sex-chatting with you, which I never do –” Stephen had the nerve to pout, “So Strange, unless your wonderful foot massage is a lead-up to something more carnally fulfilling…”

Loki gently extricated his feet from Stephen’s lap, “Go and have a good time. Aífe and I will keep each other company.”

Stephen sighed glumly. He produced a slim-lined, shiny object out of thin air.

“Here.”

Loki stared. And politely declined, “No.”

“Loki, just humour me.”

“You think you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger like putty, don’t you?”

“That’s not exactly how the saying goes...”

“The meaning is clear nonetheless.” Loki sniffed, picking up his book once more, rubbing his hand absently over where Aífe had responded by landing a barrage of kicks in his side.

“Loki, just –” Stephen was starting to become very frustrated. “Please.”

Loki became very still.

“Is something going to happen tonight?” Loki’s head whipped up, his green eyes wide with fear. “Is it happening tonight?”

Never had the Sorcerer Supreme looked so uncertain, though Loki could not quite tell if the uncertainty had to do with actually knowing or not knowing what fate had in store for them, or Stephen’s dilemma whether to tell him or no.

Probably the latter.

“It’s just a feeling,” Stephen finally said.

There was no point in pursuing the issue further; Stephen’s reticence was never without a purpose and Loki had no desire whatsoever to push his luck.

“Fine.” Loki avoided his eyes. He focused instead on the object in Stephen’s palm. “Fine. So what do I do with this abomination anyway?”

“All you need to know is the speed-dial feature. I’m one, naturally, Christine is two, three is me again…” Loki rolled his eyes.

Bruce is four, Thor is five,” Stephen threw in casually.

“Oh for the love of –” Loki sighed. “And Six?”

“Dolly Dimple’s Pizza.”

That finally brought a smile to Loki’s tight face. “That’s thoughtful of you, Stephen.”

Stephen got down on his knees next to the chaise-longue. He crossed his forearms and laid his head over them, his forehead brushing against Loki’s throw-clad thigh.

“I’ve also tinkered with it and tuned it to your energy signature.” Stephen gazed up at him. “You can activate it using your seidr, in the unlikely event that you have become incapacitated and unable to reach it manually.”

Loki raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh my. You’ve really thought of everything, haven’t you?”

Stephen turned his head and nuzzled his face into Loki’s belly. “Baby, don’t freak out okay? Your Daddy _is_ a control freak. Because he loves you.”

“Oh! Which reminds me.” Stephen straightened to search his pocket once more.

“Another gift, Strange?” Loki asked lightly, his heart still aflutter. “Gosh, I feel like it’s my eight-hundred and ninetieth birthday all over again.”

Suddenly in Stephen’s palm was a small, gem-inlaid trinket box. Loki looked at it sharply.

“This is where you keep your sling ring, isn’t it?”

“I have put that away, ever since.” Seconds passed and it was obvious Loki did not intend on finishing his sentence.

“I know the memories associated with it weren’t all good, but they weren’t all bad either.” Stephen grabbed Loki’s hand, placed it in his palm, and closed Loki’s fingers over it. “It allowed you to find me, when I needed you.”

The inside of his mouth had gone dry as ash. Loki licked his lips.

“Goodness. One might think you’re heading off to Vegas or something instead of just the backyard.” Loki’s words packed their usual bite, but his eyes were soft.

Still transferring the box between his hands back and forth contemplatively, a shadow loomed over Loki as Stephen rose to his full height. Strong, heavy arms wrapped around his neck from behind.

“Call me. Even at the _slightest_ twinge.”

Loki knew an order when he heard it, one he could abide only because it had come from his worrywart of a husband. “I still have a ways to go, Stephen. All I’ll get from all this food is gas.”

The arms around his shoulders tightened even more. “Especially _especially_ if it’s gas.”

_Okay, that’s enough._

He forcefully extricated himself from Stephen’s chokehold with one hand. “You’re just as bad as your son. Now begone you.”

“Love you.”

“Yes, yes.” Loki tilted his head to allow for a quick kiss and watched as Stephen headed for the door with a dramatic flourish of The Cloak, and he watched the door long after his husband had gone.

He looked down at his belly. “That’s your father, honey. He may look scary but he will move mountains for you. So be a good girl and let’s not give him anything to worry about tonight, alright?”

 Aífe answered with a happy kick right in the ribs. “Ow.”

_______________________________________________

 

_New Asgard, way back when_

 

 

Stephen’s consciousness slithered dangerously in and out of awareness, and just when he thought he was going to black out, a familiar heat prickled along the line of his curved back.

He forced his eyes open, and dimly made out a familiar glow.

Emerging from the portal was a familiar figure.

“Prince Loki.” The old man’s face brightened in utter delight, belying the sheer scorn in his voice. “You honour me with your presence.”

He released the handle of the knife still firmly stuck in the dead cattle and wiped his hands over his apron, smearing blood and black filth across the aged leather.

“Do forgive me if I do not bow before Your Highness. I have a bad back, you see.”

Perfectly-poised, Loki shifted to lean his weight slightly on one foot, his gold and green armour glinting in the afterglow as the portal faded out behind him, his face unreadable.

“We have not been properly introduced.”

The old man clasped both hands in front of him. “I am too humble to name myself.”

“Yet not too humble to try and murder my family,” Loki said pleasantly.

“Oh, it’s just one of those things to do before you die.” The old man shrugged a shoulder, returning Loki’s smile with an equally pleasant, albeit nauseating smile.

The double meaning behind the sinister words was not lost on Loki. Unable to resist the urge any longer, he stole a glance at the writhing figure on the ground. Stephen’s whimpers of pain had escalated to groans the longer the knife stayed stuck in the carcass.

“Please, can you cease doing whatever you’re doing and spare us all this noise?” Loki waved a hand in the general direction of the dead cattle. “His pain threshold isn’t as high as ours, I fear.”

The old man seemed to seriously consider his request. Finally, “Alright. I’ll humour you, Prince. Since you seem to care so much for the human.”

“I don’t.” Loki made a show of scratching his forehead, feigning irritation. “I just can’t hear myself think.”

“Then a silencing spell will suffice,” the old man said distractedly and with a wave of his hand, Stephen’s cries abruptly cut off.

Fury bled Loki’s face of all colour.

He lashed out and a crescent-like blade of seidr careened toward the old man with lightning speed like a scythe, but it slammed harmlessly into an invisible barrier that shimmered momentarily like a soap bubble upon contact with Loki’s seidr.

Completely unfazed, the old man studied Loki coolly. From somewhere behind him, he produced a second blade; he twirled the knife in his hand twice, and without looking, he swung it backward in a downward motion and thrust it deep into the cattle’s side. Not once did his gaze waver, not even when Stephen’s erratic magic broke through the silencing spell and his scream of pain shattered the night.

Stricken, Loki started for Stephen, his outstretched hands glowing green with healing seidr –

“One spell out of you, one word out of turn, and your human lover’s life is forfeit.” The knife was now hovering mere inches over the cattle’s heart.

Loki’s steps faltered.

“You have me where you want me.” Loki’s face darkened. He tried not to show his panic at the sight of thick, red blood spurting from Stephen’s mouth and nose. He hissed, _“Lift it.”_

“Oh well. As you command, Highness.” The old man took out only one of the knives. “That should slow it down a bit. I didn’t want him to die before you get here anyway.”

A sly smile spread across his face, “Just enough to crack his shield.”

Loki’s form went rigid.

“No…” Stephen moaned weakly. He reached out a bloody hand and true enough, he could not conjure even a wisp of magic, his fingers empty. He pressed his hand against his chest as it quaked with rattles.

_The rattles of death._

 “Yrsa, come inside, my sweet.” The old man gestured at a shadow lurking outside by the window. “It’s a bit crowded in here but we’ll be burning a few dead bodies soon enough.”

The shadow did not move.

“I will not tell you again, daughter-in-law,” The old man said dangerously. “Come _inside_.”

The figure at the window moved, and the side door closest to the long table creaked open. A hooded figure very reluctantly took a step inside, and into the light.

“Stian.” Loki suddenly went weak in the knees. He could not breathe.

His eyes watered instantly at the sight of his son, still sleeping peacefully in Yrsa’s arms, completely oblivious to what was happening around him. “No…”

There was no hiding the raw pain in his voice now, he could not play the game as though he had the upper hand any longer. _“Why?”_

“You killed my son.”

A glazed look fell over Loki’s eyes. His countenance wilted.

“I have killed many sons.”

“You have not killed your own.” The glee in the old man’s voice was unmistakable despite his attempt to hide it behind a scornful snort. “Or have you?”

Loki did not answer. His shoulders slumped.

He stared at Yrsa standing in the far dark corner of the barn with his son against her bosom. Stian’s face was largely hidden from view but his glossy black hair shone in the dark, and Loki’s heart ached with such longing that he feared he was seconds away from erupting and burning the entire place to the ground.

_Burn them all._

“May I see it?” The old man’s plea shook him out of his reverie. “Your Casket?”

Loki must have not heard him right – “What?”

“The Casket of Ancient Winters.” The old man repeated his request patiently. “I would like to see with my own eyes what my son gave his life protecting.”

The silence that ensued was only broken in places by Stephen’s painful gasps for breath.

“I will show it to you if you tell me who it was I am meant to have killed,” Loki made a half-hearted attempt at a bargain.

To his surprise, the old man obliged. “Huldar Orrisson.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“No, it wouldn’t ring any bell, would it? He was but a foot soldier, not fit to kiss the ground you walked on,” Orri spat. “But he was a good son.”

“When I heard Huldar had died protecting the vault, I was proud. Devastated, but proud.” He balled his fists by his side. “Until I learnt it was you who had let the Frost Giants in.”

Loki reared his head.

There it was. The answer to all their questions.

The lone Einherjar who had died tragically in the vault at the hands of the Jotunn intruders on the day of Thor’s coronation. The one whose life could have been saved if the Allfather had awakened the Destroyer just minutes earlier.

The one whose life would not have been in danger in the first place had Loki not foolishly given in to his fancies and betrayed Asgard in the most heinous, traitorous way possible.  

“Show it to me, then,” Orri urged.

Loki silently summoned the Casket and as the relic glowed in his hands, he could feel the ancient magic coursing up his arms and into his veins; he fought the change with all his might but the jeer on the old man’s face proved the futility of his effort.

“What an ugly thing you are.” Orri marvelled, impossible though it was to tell if he was referring to the Casket, or the blue-skinned, red-eyed Prince standing in front of him. “To have died for such a thing.”

Loki’s blood, icy in his veins, burned.

The ugly monster reared its head again and the Casket rumbled and thrummed under his palms, clearly responding to the madness stirring within; the Loki of old would have thought naught of it and decimated this entire place, razing it to the ground, flattening everything into an icy, desolate tundra.  

The Casket disappeared with a sleight of his hand.

Loki took a step forward. “I admit to it freely.”

“Kill me.” He glanced out of the corner of his eye. Stephen was no longer moving, most likely unconscious. He would not entertain any other possibility. Not when Loki could still save him. “But let them go.”

“That’s very kind of you, Highness. But I’m afraid I must decline.” Orri shook his head regretfully. “You see, I did want to kill you. For years, there was little else I wanted more.”

“I am but an old man, Prince. Learning new things doesn’t come as easily for me as it used to. But that’s the thing about dark magic, isn’t it. For the right price, anything can be learned.” He raised a hand, and balled it into a fist. Almost instantaneously, Yrsa jerked upright. Like a puppet on a marionette’s strings, she began to walk toward him.

Her feet may not be, but her eyes were her own; they stared imploringly at Loki.

_Help me._

“When the King announced his abdication, I saw my chance. With your brother no longer protecting you, not only were you vulnerable, but any attempt on your life thereafter would then be construed as proof of the people’s dissent against you, the next would-be King.”

Orri frowned at Stephen’s prone body. He tugged a little at the knife handle still poking out of the cattle’s belly.

The jarring motion sent a shockwave of dark magic coursing through Stephen once more and it jolted him awake with a long, torturous cry.

Loki blanched.

Seemingly satisfied that Stephen was still alive, Orri continued his tirade under a self-deprecating guise. “It was the perfect opportunity. Had your dear Sorcerer Supreme been around it would not have gone as flawlessly. But after I slipped the poison into your food and thought you as good as dead, I regretted it.”

He nodded at the stunned look on Loki’s face. “I regretted letting you off easy.”

Orri’s voice had trailed to a whisper. “In my lust for blood, I had forgotten there was a fate worse than death.”

As if on cue, Stian stirred and began to cry.

“No!” Loki started to rush forward, but with a snarl Orri held a knife over the cattle’s heart once more –

The other hand, Orri extended to Yrsa expectantly.

“Father-in-law, please…”

“Give him to me.”

“Please, he is but an innocent child!”

“Oh, Yrsa, you and your fragile, fragile heart,” Orri sighed. He pointed his knife in Loki’s direction. “He might as well have been the one who killed your husband, and yet you risk your life for him? And his bastard offspring?”

“I have sworn an oath upon entering the service of the Prince.” Yrsa’s lips trembled. “Prince Loki has changed. He saved us all, Father. I will not betray him any longer.”

“And what of your vows to your husband?” Orri thundered.

“Huldar is dead, Father. Be his gentle soul in Valhalla or Fólkvangr I know not, but I know this.” Tears ran freely down her face. “Huldar would not want you to do this.”

 _“Enough.”_ Orri’s eyes glowed a sanguine red. With a twist of his wrist, Yrsa’s feet began moving; despite the terror in her eyes, she clutched Stian closer toward her bosom.

“I forgave you when you thwarted my plan to murder the Little Prince,” he purred. “Had you not always been a bit simple in the head, I would have flayed you for your _selfless_ act, playing the Prince’s human shield…”

“For honestly – “ Orri seized her face, “How do you think this will pan out, sweet Yrsa?”

“You think you’ll get back in your Prince’s good graces?” Orri gripped her chin and violently wrenched her face to the side to face Loki, her form trembling with terror. “Will he take you back once he finds out that you’re the reason his magic can’t touch me?”

A chill ran down Loki’s spine.

_What?_

Stephen let out a low, awful moan, but it sounded so far away; all Loki could think of was how he could be this helpless. Not only were his hands tied, but his magic too?

Orri wrenched Stian out of Yrsa’s arms and with the strength of three men, hurled her across a distance of twenty feet, and as her head slammed into the wall, it gave a loud, resounding crack and she slumped bonelessly to the ground.

Without thinking, Loki leaped forward, brandishing his daggers. His only thought was Stian. He needed to retrieve Stian, whatever it took.

But Orri moved at such speed that should have been impossible for someone his age, and with a gesture of his hand, a plane of dark energy erupted from the ground amid an earth-shattering roar.

Loki collided with the shield and instantly felt his seidr wane upon contact. He gasped, and pulled back before the sucking force could latch deeper into his core and drain him dry.

“For the love of your son, just _kill_ me, Sorcerer!” The barn shuddered as Loki screamed in rage, his seidr lashing out wildly and sending metal pails, milker devices and heavy collection tanks barrelling into the walls. Orri dropped Stian onto the ground as he grabbed the long table for support, and Stian’s cries escalated into screams of terror.

Orri stared at Loki, now on his hands and knees.

“You have accrued a blood debt, Highness. I lost a son and Yrsa lost her husband. You can pay however you so choose.” His raspy voice suddenly sounded so very tired.  “A son or a husband.”

Loki could not tear his eyes from Stian. So close yet so far. When he spoke, his voice was hollow. “I have no husband.”

“Yes, for who would want you?” A savage grin. “But your human bedwarmer is close enough. Now, Prince. Choose.”

Loki wearily climbed to his feet. He swayed. Now that he was giving in to exhaustion, he was starting to feel the lingering effect of the drug Stephen had slipped him. He shook his head. He needed to snap out of it. He needed his clarity.

“Can’t decide? Spoilt for choice?” Orri misconstrued his gesture, but did not seem particularly eager to ask for clarification for the glee had crept into his voice once again, “Very well. I’ll just have to kill them both.”

He raised the knife high above the cattle’s heart. “Starting with your _paramour!”_

“Stop!” Loki rasped. “Stop.”

“Loki…” Stephen murmured. His body had gone cold. The pain had numbed him to the point where he could almost feel it no longer. Loki had better not choose him, Loki must _not_ choose him…

He was dying anyway.

“Loki…Stian...”

But Loki was not listening.

His hand shook as he pointed at the trembling figure curled in a foetal position on the ground. “Release him.”

“No trickery, Prince.”

“I give you my word, if you will give me yours.” Loki’s voice was very soft, barely audible over Stian’s shrill cries.

“Spare the human, and you can slit the very throat in your grip.”

“Loki, what the _fuck_ are you saying?” With a sudden burst of energy, Stephen howled, his voice raw with grief and reawakened agony alike. He coughed and spat a great gob of fresh blood.

“You would give up your son.”

“I’ll make another.” Tears filled Loki’s eyes.

“Loki, you can’t!” Stephen gasped.

“I accept.” Orri sounded genuinely awed, in that disbelieving way one would adopt when years of hard work finally came to fruition.

“I am a man of mercy.” The gnarly hands hauled Stian off the ground by the neck, muffling his cries as he sputtered and choked. “Your human, for a nice clean slit.”

“Stian!” Stephen tried to reach for his son, but his magic was no longer responding, no longer answering the command of a dying man.

Stephen saw a single tear fall onto the ground as Loki’s knees came into his direct line of vision. He felt a knuckle brush lightly against the corner of his lips where he knew blood was trickling sluggishly, his mouth so filled with blood he could no longer feel his tongue.

“Yes,” he heard Loki whisper, more to himself than to anybody else and Stephen felt something in his chest _break_.

 _Stian_.

“Loki…” His own tears ran hot down the side of his face, seeping into the ground.

_My Stian._

He felt the dark, ancient magic stir the air as Orri muttered the guttural words to a spell, felt the rough brush of Loki’s lips against his temple –

_Our Stian._

And never had Stephen cursed the sudden lifting of the excruciating pain in his belly and the return of spontaneous breathing, for with the abrupt jolt of mental clarity that followed, came the crushing, unspeakable agony twisting his heart as Stian wailed and wailed and _wailed_

“Close your eyes, Stephen,” he heard Loki whisper, could feel his seidr enveloping him in a green cocoon of healing energy, and still his child, his precious little boy wailed

And abruptly Stian’s cries ceased.

An unspeakable fury flooded every fibre of Stephen’s being.

And the Sorcerer Supreme screamed in rage.

___________________________________

_How could you, Loki?_

The feel of warm flesh in his lap did nothing to assuage his rage, and as though he had lost all semblance of rationality, he blindly lashed out a hand to strike, for never had he felt such maddening fury, such _hatred_ toward the person he supposedly loved

And Stian erupted into cries once more.

_What?_

Stephen forced open eyes bleary with grief, his heart thundering like a mad horse in his chest; he gasped against the tears seeping into corners of his lips as his mouth worked to form words, the sharpness of the salt on his tongue reeling in his awareness like the crack of a whip.

_What is this?_

“Stian?”

_A dream? Alternate reality?_

_A time loop?_

Stephen gathered his son, warm and screaming and _alive_ , into the cradle of his arms.

Something was not right, he thought dimly.

Stephen raised his head.

The realisation that what he held in his grip now was none other than Loki seemed to stun Orri just as much, and the blade slipped from his hand, landing silently on the ground and sending a fine spray of blood across the hay.

Loki and Stephen’s eyes met.

How _peculiar_ it was that the blood from the gash in Loki’s throat seemed to spurt in time with every beat of Stephen’s heart.

Loki raised a trembling hand, and a fiery portal flared to life.

“Loki, no –”

A sad, sad smile, with just the tiniest spark of old mischief.

It was payback time, was it not, for Stephen had pulled the exact same trick before, on the very first day they met.

“Bye-bye.”

With Stian clutched tightly in his arms, Stephen lunged for Loki, but the portal got to them first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys, work has been crazy. I do try to update as regularly as I can but you know how it is. >.< But I will never abandon this fic, not on the pain of death! Okay. 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments, guys. <3 love them all ♥


	18. Fire and Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And once again everyone is scrambling to save Loki's life. And Stephen's too.

_New Asgard, way back when_

 

Stephen had no idea where the portal would take them, but the moment he landed on the cold, hard floor he tucked himself into a tight roll around his son and only upon ramming into someone’s feet and coming to a complete, hard stop, did he finally loosen his grip

“Stephen!” he heard Thor’s voice, felt giant hands pawing his shoulders, hauling him upright, “Where have you been?! The wards in the nursery went off and Stian was gone! We feared you had gone missing!”

Stephen’s head whipped up, realising that they were in Thor’s private chambers. 

“What the Hel happened to you?!” Valkyrie crouched down on one knee, and nearly toppled over backward when Stephen suddenly relinquished Stian into her arms.

“Take him, I need –” he wheezed, “I need, to get back –”

Stephen climbed his hands up Thor’s arms and shoulders as he struggled to stand, not caring in the least for the look of bewilderment on the God of Thunder’s face, he needed to get back on his feet, needed to get back to Loki –

“He’s got Loki, I need to go _back!_ ”

Thor’s form went rigid and he gripped Stephen’s arms, hard. “Where is my brother?”

Stephen’s eyes were wild. “Thor. Call – call Wong. Tell him to get Christine. Get Christine here.”

Valkyrie tried to shush the crying Stian as best she could, rocking him against her chest. She glowered at his blood-soaked clothes, very much evident now that he was standing. “Are you wounded?” She demanded.

Stephen ignored her question. He placed both hands on his temples and scrunched his eyes closed, as though concentrating on a difficult mental task.

“He’s not answering me.”

When he opened his eyes again, they were stricken with fear and grief. He drew in a ragged breath, “This was all my fault.”

Thor was seconds away from a titanic meltdown. “I will give you thirty seconds to explain everything, Strange, or so help me I _will_ strike you.”

Stephen gritted his teeth. “There is no _time_ , Thor!” He grabbed Stian’s head and kissed him hard on the forehead. “Guard him with your life, Valkyrie.”

“Whu-Huh?” Flabbergasted, Valkyrie could only watch as Stephen staggered toward the center of the room. A ring of fire blazed to life, and she recoiled, holding Stian away from the heat of the portal.

She shouted to make herself heard, wherever it was on the other side, the blowing gale was deafening. “Where are you going?”

“To get Loki back!”

“I’m coming with you.” Thor said gruffly, all bedecked in his battle armour, Stormbreaker at the ready.

“The Healing Hall, Valkyrie,” were Stephen’s last grim words. “Get it ready.”

_____________________________________

“You tricked me!”

“Oh, I tricked no one.” Loki whispered, “You tricked yourself.”

“You…you…” Orri seethed, his face twisted and ugly, the sheer heat of the dark magic rising off his back, stifling and suffocating, and the rotten smell of decay increased ten-fold. “But how -?!”

“You should have listened to every word, old man.”

Loki’s stomach roiled dangerously. He could feel the individual beads of cold sweat trickle down his back. He did not have much time, he needed to end this, quickly.

He cupped a hand over his neck where the magic blade had sunk its teeth, nice and clean just like Orri had promised. The blood flowed warm and free, cascading down his throat, “I never did say whose.”

Orri’s face went white with fury. “Your life is mine, Odinson.”

Loki tutted.

“Had you agreed when I first offered it, I would have given it freely and gladly. You have forfeited the right to my life when you attempted to murder my family.” Loki’s head dipped slightly forward, as if listening to voices only he could hear. “Orri Sørensen.”

Loki did not gloat at the utter surprise in the old man’s face. He was only interested in one thing, and one thing only. “And for that, I will not let you live.”

Orri barked a disbelieving laugh. “Have you forgotten? Your magic won’t work against me, Little Prince.”

“You bound only my seidr.” Loki lifted his chin and stared with dead eyes. “You did not bind my blood.”

With a snarl, Orri launched himself at him with his knives but Loki’s hand left his throat to fan out a confetti of blood, sending it spattering across Orri’s face. Loki uttered a word, harsh and sibilant, and Orri screamed, clawing his face as it sizzled like acid burns. 

“This was your own undoing.” Loki’s voice was very patient, almost gentle.

Orri roared an unintelligible string of words to a spell, and blindly began slashing away at the carcass on the long table. His face fell when an unperturbed Loki remained standing, steadfast and unaffected.

“By your blade, you released my blood and thus freed it. For me to use as I will.”

“Die, Loki!!”

Enraged, Orri shot out an arm, and red globules of dark energy barrelled toward him one after another at lightning speed, but Loki needed only raise his hand to turn them around, and the energy balls careened, slamming into the dead animal, engulfing it in a roaring blaze. Black flames licked up and down, lashing along the table.

“You think you alone are well-versed in the ways of dark magic?” Loki asked coolly. “You may have been alive longer, Sørensen, but I have been doing this since the day I was born.”

Loki’s armour disappeared, revealing a pale torso that fast bathed in red; blood flowed in rivulets, seeping into his waist and down his legs.

What do Midgardians call this, a Catch-22 situation? he wondered darkly. He knew he was bleeding profusely and could very well die soon, yet left with no choice but to let the blood flow unchecked, lest the sacrifice the blood magic required be null and void.

He could not fail. He must not.

“I am Loki, Son of Odin.”

With a trembling hand, Loki painted a sigil on his chest in his own blood, evoking a forbidden spell he had learnt by heart from a grimoire he had stolen long ago.

His eyes never wavered, as cold and blue as steel.

“Prince of Asgard.”

For the first time, Orri showed the faintest glimmer of fear and he backed away. The one half of his face lit up in the glow of the burning table began to crumple.

“Mercy,” he whispered, suddenly looking every inch the frail old man he was, behind all the grief and lust for failed revenge.

But Loki was no longer listening, the roar of blood in his ears too loud, too hungry. The sigil on his chest began to glow, emblazoned across his torso like a wildfire, red-hot and _alive_. 

Loki closed his eyes as faces upon faces flitted across his mind’s eye in a dizzying whirlpool of memories, cherished and abhorred and _loved_

_Frigga. Odin. Thor._

“Mercy, my Prince.” A sick whisper.

_Stephen._

_Stian._

No. No mercy.

Loki reopened them, empty and devoid of all pity. Orri deserved to look him in the eye after all, for there was no malice, no spite – only retribution.

“I condemn you to death _,”_ he whispered.

And everything around them erupted in flames.

___________________________________________

Thor’s first thought as he stepped out of the portal was that he had been transported back to Surtur’s lair; the raging inferno around them obliterating everything within sight, the grass fields an ocean of fire against the blackness of the Scandinavian night sky.

“No…” Stephen whispered, aghast as he stared in horror at the barn, now completely engulfed in flames.

“Loki-!” And he _ran_.

“Strange!” Thor broke into a chase. The fire seemed to have a mind of his own, and it parted as Thor thundered his way through the burning field.

This was not Loki’s magic, it did not _feel_ like Loki’s magic, but something darker, and much more sinister. Yet he could sense Loki’s hand in it all the same -

And Stephen was running straight into the heart of the fire.

“Loki!!!”

_____________________________________

 

“I curse you.”

Orri’s hand lay limp by his side, twitching and curling around strands of charred hay

“I curse you, Jotunn.”

Blood swallows the sky

The wolf shall awaken true;

And as it devours the night

So shall it devour…you.

Loki closed his eyes.

Nothing mattered.

______________________________________

 

These were no ordinary flames.

Stephen’s sentient magic wanted nothing more than to douse the flames but the intended purpose of Loki’s invocation was as clear as the path in front of him as the fire parted to give him way.

_To cleanse, therefore it must burn._

And thus, Stephen must let it burn.

“Loki!!!” Thor bellowed, his voice lost in the thunderous crackling of the fire.

“Your Majesty!” A faint voice called from the very far corner.

“Please,” Yrsa sobbed. Her hands, slick with blood, kept her bundled-up cloak pressed against the side of Loki’s neck.

Orri lay dead, a few steps away, eyes unseeing, knobbly hands curling into contractures in the heat of the flames as they licked ravenously up his still, broken body.

Thor wasted no time scooping his brother’s body into his arms. “Quickly now, Strange!”

Debris and falling chunks of burning beams plummeted toward them –

Stephen grabbed Yrsa and Thor by the arm and prayed, to whichever God was listening

_Give me strength._

________________________________________

 

The flurry of Healers around them were but white noise amid the pounding in his ears. The oxygen cannula was translucent against the stark pallor of Loki’s skin, the only thing of colour in Stephen’s line of vision right now was the red on the pillow, the red on the sheets, the red on his hands –

“The wound’s not closing.” Beads of perspiration dewed on his forehead as Stephen pumped even more magic into his healing spell, coaxing it to suture the torn tissue together, to stop the haemorrhage, to clot the blood but

“It’s not closing.” Dimly, he could hear the panic in his voice, he must not let it show, he knew he should not, but dear God there was just too much blood.

“There’s nothing…” Loki’s eyes were closing but Thor palmed the side of his face and they jolted open again, in and out of focus. “Magic…blade..”

“Loki!” Thor shouted. “Open your eyes!”

Healers hung bags upon bags of blood all around them as they tried to restore what was already lost, but Loki was losing it as fast as they could give it. His blood pressure was plummeting, his heart rate had skyrocketed through the roof, his circulation was shutting down –

“I can fix this. I can fix this.” Stephen knew he was babbling and he allowed it; the sheer panic may well have taken over his faculty of speech, but his brain was still clear, all hope was not lost, he knew he could do this. He had to.

The bleeding vessel was right there. If he closed his eyes, he could _see_ it with his fingers.

He could fix this.

He was the Sorcerer Supreme.

He was also Doctor Stephen Strange, Surgeon Extraordinaire.

“I need my hands, Loki,” he said urgently. “All I need is five minutes!”

Loki could no longer speak.

_“You said…never again…”_

“I take it back!” he said fiercely. “I take it back, damn you!”

_“…don’t know…how…long…”_

“Thor, put your fingers here, put pressure on it!” Stephen grabbed Thor’s hand and guided his large fingers through the wound in Loki’s neck. To his credit, Thor did not appear squeamish in the slightest, only resolute and determined. “Don’t let go until I say!”

Thor nodded wordlessly, his face pale underneath his golden tan. 

Stephen then grabbed Loki’s hands and gripped them to the sides of his face. He could smell the cloying scent of blood that must now be smeared all over his face but he paid it no heed, not when their only hope lay in the icy fingers in his grip. “My hands, Loki, please!”

“Loki, stay awake!” Thor roared, and slapped his other hand on Loki’s chest, giving him a sharp, brisk jolt. Loki’s eyes flew open and a gasp of new breath strengthened his resolve somewhat and his fingers began to glow a pale, watery green

Stephen felt the heat of Loki’s magic warm his hands and he gripped Loki’s hands tighter.

“That’s it, Loki. Come on,” Stephen encouraged him breathlessly.

Not caring in the least for watching eyes, he leaned down and fiercely kissed Loki deep, hard and desperate. Loki’s lips were ice-cold. “Come on.”

 

______________________________________

 

“I came as soon as I could.” A red-haired woman burst in through the double doors of the surgical suite, barrelling in all guns a-blazing, “Stephen, what the hell _happened_?!”

Wong trailed close behind, his generous frame jiggling up and down, breathless with the effort to keep up.

Stephen was so overwhelmed with relief, he let out an involuntary sob. “Christine! Oh, thank _God_..”

“Your hands! They’re okay?” She stuck her head out of the scrub room, scrubbing her hands furiously.

Stephen shook his head. “Temporary spell, I’ll explain later.”

And the first tremor began to jerk the fingers on his left hand. Stephen quickly shifted the retractor pulling back the flap of neck muscle into his right hand, his stomach twisting in dismay.

“I can feel the shakes coming back,” Stephen urged breathily, “You need to take over, hurry!”

“Talk me through, Stephen.” A Healer stepped in hurriedly to assist with her surgical gown and Christine snapped her sterile gloves on.

“Zone II laceration wound to the left neck, initial exploration with oblique skin incision along the anterior margin of the left sternocleidomastoid muscle revealed a severed left common carotid artery, spanning 70 percent circumferentially.” Stephen gently nudged the incision apart with the one finger left that was not shaking to let her see.

“I’ve controlled the bleeding by clamping it proximally and distally, looks like we’ve only got one bleeder.”

Christine dived right in, prodding the wound, lifting the artery forceps to study the two ends of the severed vessel which had been sutured half-way through.

Clean-cut. Someone had slit Loki’s throat, she realised with a sudden shiver. “Estimated blood loss?” she murmured.

“Massive. Indeterminate, but massive.”

“Internal jugular vein, intact.” Christine allowed herself to exhale. “Left vagus nerve, intact. What did you use, Prolene 6-0?”

Stephen handed her the needle holder with the suture still attached.

“Sutured half way through. Can’t continue.” Christine stared at his hands that were shaking once more, but looked away after a fraction of a second, her eyes unreadable.

The relief in Stephen’s eyes was unmistakable. “Just in the nick of time, Dr Palmer.”

“You did good, Dr Strange. Beautiful suturing, as always.” Her eyes welled.

The smile he hid behind his surgical mask was equally sad. “You’re a lifesaver, Christine.”

She sniffed, and blinked to clear the tears away. She could not speak so she nodded.

Stephen pulled himself away from the operating table to allow another Healer to step in to assist. He looked down at his hands. They were as good as useless now.

He could feel the adrenaline leaving him.

His vision blurred as he stole a glance at Loki, deeply unconscious, his face whiter than the sheet he was lying on. The only indication that his lover was still alive was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Stephen had been the one to intubate him, after all.

“You’ll be okay,” he whispered. “You _have_ to be okay.”

His head swam. Suddenly the operating theatre was too bright. Too white.

“Dr Strange?” A Healer’s face loomed over him, blooming in and out of focus.

His knees buckled, and a pair of strong, familiar arms caught him as he fell.

_“Wong.”_

“I’ve got you, my friend.”

________________________________________

 

“The internal damage is quite extensive.” Wong’s hands felt warm and heavy on his abdomen. His fellow Master sounded casual, but his eyes were worried. “What the hell did you get yourself into?”

“David and Goliath,” Stephen murmured drowsily. The hum of healing magic was dangerously lulling him to sleep. “I thought I was David.”

“This was not from a beating.”

“It was voodoo.” Loki’s healing seidr, potent yet too brief, had stopped the active internal bleeding but it simply did not have time to repair the extensive soft tissue damage and torn bowels before he was

 _Taken_.

No, not taken.

Stephen could not erase the image from his mind’s eye. He was not sure if he wanted to.

Loki was not taken.

Loki gave himself up.

“He gave himself up.”

Wong looked at him sharply.

Stephen’s breath hitched in his throat as tears threatened to spill. He palmed his eyes to hide them. “ _Fucking_ idiot.”

“Well, that idiot is finally out of the woods, more or less.” A tired voice spoke up from the door.

Wong nodded but did not look up from his ministrations. “Dr Palmer.”

“Loki?” Stephen said almost fearfully. “How is he?”

“Alive, for now.” Christine sighed heavily, and sank into the chair on the other side of his cot. “Eight pints of blood later, vital sign’s still holding.”

An overwhelming sense of relief cascaded over him and Stephen could _breathe_ again. “Thank God.”

Now that his reticular activating system was no longer threatening to drag him into blessed unconsciousness, he finally noticed the dark circles under her eyes and the tired slump of her shoulders.

“And thank _you_.” He reached out for her hand. “I’m sorry for doing this to you. Again.”

“I’ve stopped holding it against you, Stephen.” She waved his apology away. “It’s the nature of our job, after all. Must always be ready.” She peered at him, tilting her chin at Wong’s healing dome. “A baby, a penetrating neck wound…and what’s this now?”

“Got stabbed from the inside out by a dark magic sorcerer hell-bent on slicing the hell out of his voodoo cow doll.”

Apparently, nothing could faze Christine anymore.

“Uh-uh.” She gave him a once-over with a critical eye. “You alright though?”

“Think so?” Stephen looked to Wong for clarification. Ever the helpful one, Wong only grunted.

She spoke lightly in jest. “Cos I’ve just finished nights but I’m sure I can fit in another exploratory laparotomy.”

“Ugh, no thanks.” Stephen wrinkled his nose. “Knowing you, you would probably give me a colostomy under the pretence of safe practice when in actual fact, you just wanted to get back to me for all the times I hurt you back when we were still together.”

“I don’t hold grudges that long, Stephen.” She socked him on the shoulder. Then her face turned grim.

“I’ve checked his reflexes, and the muscle tone in his legs and arms, they’re all still intact bilaterally. And his toes are down-going on Babinski,” Christine chose her words carefully. “So far Loki seems okay clinically, but we won’t know the extent of neurological damage until he wakes up.”

Stephen inhaled deeply. “Banner did a head scan on Loki once back in New York when he was still a nasty villain and he told me the collateral circulation in Loki’s alien brain was _insane._ ”

He shook his head. He was not going to entertain another thought in this direction. They just had a big win. Loki was _alive_. “Wouldn’t surprise me if Loki walked away from this unscathed.”

“If that were true, I am ecstatic in every sense of the word,” she said gravely. “That much blood loss...the cerebral ischaemia could have been significant enough to paralyse him.”

Wong’s head whipped up.

“Then I am going to love him, and care for him, and never leave him,” Stephen said. His voice did not shake. "Come what may."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, because the song that was playing on loop in my head the entire time I was writing this was Come What May from Moulin Rouge. Ahaha. 
> 
> Like it? Hate it? Meh? Do let me know~!


	19. Starry, Starry Night

_New Asgard, way back when_

 

Despite Thor’s offer to put an extra cot in Loki’s room, and Christine’s express disapproval, Stephen decided to forgo a bed of his own and opted for his favourite armchair.

“You’re still mending inside, Strange,” someone had said, he did not remember or care who.

“I’m mended,” Stephen said softly. His stomach did not hurt anymore, not really. And the occasional twinges were going to come whether he be sitting or lying down. He just wanted to be close. A bed, no matter how adjacent, would still be too far.

It was light outside and still Loki had not regained consciousness. The only consolation was that he was spontaneously breathing on his own. He still looked all fifty shades of dead, though.

Stephen sank back into his chair and leaned his head as far back as it would go. He wagered if he were to look in the mirror, he himself would look no better. He placed a hand on his abdomen to rub the lingering phantom pains away while his other hand absently traced circles over the back of Loki’s hand.

He must have dozed off for when he next came to his senses, there was only the feel of the soft mattress beneath his palm. “Hmm?”

Loki’s hand slowly came on top of his.  

Stephen opened his eyes.

He sat up too fast and caught his stomach as it twinged. He half-winced, half-smiled in relief, “Hey.”

Stephen saw the line of Loki’s gaze and read his bloodless lips. _“You alright?”_

 _“Me?”_ Stephen gawked. “I’m not the one who nearly bled his entire circulation out three times over!”

At Loki’s sceptic semi-raised eyebrow, Stephen shook his head stubbornly. “No, no. I only lost like a litre. Or a litre and a half at most.”

_“Always a competition with you, Strange.”_

Loki tried to lick his dry lips, but his tongue too was excessively dry and he let out an involuntary hiss. He was so thirsty.

Stephen fished out some ice chips from the cup on the tray table and touched them to Loki’s lips. “Slowly. Do you feel like being sick?” Loki shook his head very slightly. “You must be thirsty as hell, I’ll get you some water later.”

“Stian?” Loki croaked when he could finally speak.

“Valkyrie has him, he was sleeping last time I checked,” Stephen said reassuringly. “How are you feeling?”

 _As weak as a day-old kitten._ “Like a million Sakaarian units.”

“Are they more like dollars, or rupees?”

Loki smiled benevolently. “Sometimes we don’t get each other’s jokes, Strange. It’s okay.”

Perhaps Loki’s smile was meant to be comforting and once would have even melted him all eight ways to Sunday, but now it only filled him with a slow-stirring anger. “No, it’s not.”

“It’s not okay.”

Stephen could feel the curls of ire unfold like claws. “You _fool_.”

Loki took an unnecessarily long time to respond to what was clearly a start to a very painful and uncomfortable conversation.

“Save neither. Save one. Save both.” The smile had left Loki entirely. “I chose both. And I’d do it all over again.”

Now he looked every inch the Ice Prince he was and Stephen found it _infuriating_.

Quiet rage stayed his tongue, but not his head

_“You stupid, stupid fool.”_

Something in Loki’s eyes gave way, and Stephen immediately regretted his slip of Mindtongue.

“Please don’t be angry with me, Stephen.”

_No, Loki, please don’t cry_

“I’m not angry with you, Loki.”

Stephen thumbed the wetness away from the corner of Loki’s eye. He sighed deep, and wearily.

“I’m angry with myself, for putting you in such danger in the first place.”

Clearly not understanding, Loki tried to shake his head but stopped short at the sharp pain where it tugged on his stitches. He hoped the unspoken question in his eyes would prompt Stephen enough to complement his statement with an explanation.

“I kept some of your hair in our closet,” Stephen confessed. He would have confessed much more, that it was his arrogance that made him go it alone, or that he should have given Stian to someone, the Valkyrie, or Thor even, as long as it was out of harm’s way. “And I shouldn’t have drugged you.”

Loki only looked at him momentarily before finally letting out a tired sigh of his own. “Always seek the root cause, Stephen.”

Damn Loki and his fox ears.

“He came after me for my past sins.”

Loki closed his eyes again, his veins blue against the translucency of his eyelids. “It would be very presumptuous of me to expect you to carry any of the blame, let alone absolve them for me.”

Stephen felt suddenly sick.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Loki’s eyes flew open.

“I can’t be your lover anymore,” he heard Stephen whisper.

He never thought it would physically hurt but it _did_. “I understand.”

“I assume you would want to have Stian every other weekend?”

The tears were sliding freely down the sides of his face, collecting in the hollows of his clenched temples. His chest hurt. That must be where his heart was. He could feel it, now that it was broken into pieces.

“That’s what you humans do, isn’t it? Joint custody or something or other?”

 _“What?”_ Stephen gripped his arm. “NO!”

Stephen was in his face now, all red-faced and furious, “No, you idiot, don’t you _dare_.”

“I may be dreadfully ill, Strange, but I am not deaf.” How could he be so damn thirsty and yet still have so many tears left inside him? “You do not wish to be with me, I get it.”

“I said I don’t want to be your lover.”

“Yes, Doctor, I heard you the first time –”

“I want to be something more.”

Stephen’s demand was sharp and unbending. “You have to give me more.”

Loki froze. If his heart was not beating so wildly in his chest, he would have thought it stopped as well. “What are you saying?”

“Loki…”

Stephen held Loki’s hand flat against his own chest, where his heartbeat was the loudest. “You have my _heart_.”

“Now I want yours.”

Long seconds passed.

“You have it, Strange,” Loki whispered hoarsely. Stephen may have the most brilliant mind, but how he still could not see it, Loki would never know. “You always have.”

“Prove it.”

“How?”

“Marry me.”

Loki stared at him, face and body as still as marble. When he finally spoke, his chest rose and fell rapidly as though only realising he had been holding his breath. “You can’t be serious.”

“Marry me.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Marry me.” Despite his seriousness, Stephen patted Loki’s hand awkwardly, his handsome face a mask of concern. “And please calm down, you’re hyperventilating –”

“Wh-Why would you want to – you’re crazy.” His neck be damned, Loki was going to shake his head, and shake it hard. “ _I’m_ crazy.”

“You’re my kind of crazy.”

“I let the Jotunns into the vault and killed a man, Strange,” Loki pleaded. “You don’t want my kind of crazy.”

“I know all about that. Thor told me,” Stephen said softly.

“Then _why?”_ Loki’s eyes were too bright against his pale face as he gaped in disbelief.

“Because I can’t lose you anymore,” Stephen said fiercely. “I can’t watch you gamble your life away like that. If I have to bind you to me to stop you, I _will_."

“So you want to put me in a glass cage and stare at me till the end of your days? Feed me three times a day like a petting animal?”

“Can I?” Stephen’s eyes lit up hopefully.

“ _NO_ , you asshole!”

“Then stop ruining my proposal!”

“Well, it’s the shittiest one I’ve had so far,” Loki laughed crazily. A pale hand grasped his forehead. Maybe he was imagining all this, maybe he was still delirious. “Somebody _please_ get me out of this dream…”

“It’s not a dream, Loki.”

Stephen reached to cup his cheek. “You are loved.”

Loki’s hand left his forehead as he turned his head to gaze at Stephen in stark wonder.

“And I want you to love yourself, more than you love anyone else.” Stephen searched his face and the look in Loki’s eyes told him everything he needed to know. “More than me.”

“And the only way I can make you do that is to claim you as mine and mine alone, so I can pound it into your thick Asgardian skull, every day and night – ”

Stephen needed no further convincing that he wanted this. He wanted this more than anything. “That you are loved, Loki.”

“More dearly than you know.”

Loki’s lips began to tremble.

“Now will you please just kiss me and say yes?” Stephen pleaded. “Or say yes and then kiss me, because the suspense is killing m-”

“Yes.”

Time stood still.

“Right.” Stephen was losing himself to the pull of Loki’s gaze.  

“So.” Damn those eyes.

He cleared his throat. “Um. Loki. As your betrothed…”

The soft gaze hardened and Loki immediately looked wary. Perhaps he should not have said yes after all. Stupid human with his sweet words and sweet eyes. “Yes?”

“It is my duty to tell you…” Stephen’s hand searched for Loki’s once more. “That you don’t get to die on me anymore, Loki.”

“You need to live.” He interlaced their fingers together. “That is all I ask.”

“You just need to live.”

Loki was not going to argue. “Okay.”

And for good measure,

“And four more children, if you please.”

“Tall order, Strange, but okay.” Loki laughed, a little light-headedly. _“Okay.”_

And that was good enough for Stephen, who swiftly pressed Loki’s knuckles to his mouth as if to still his trembling lips. “There’s no getting rid of me now, Odinson.”

“Thor will not like this.” Loki felt small all of a sudden and he turned onto his side, bending his knees to his chest. Stephen’s heart galloped in sheer delight at the sight of Loki moving his legs.

_Insane alien brain, remember?_

“I don’t give a fuck what Thor likes.”

“Good. Because I don’t, either.”

“See? We make such a good couple, we’re agreeing on everything already –”

“Strange.”

“Yeah?”

 “Will you please just shut up and kiss me?”

_____________________________________________

_New Asgard, present time_

 

The effort Loki took not to look at it claimed more of his mental energy than actually picking up the damn thing.

The box sat in his palm, unopened for a short eternity before he could muster the nerves to open it. He was not surprised to see he still remembered the spell to unlock it.

A beautiful thing it was, made of solid gold, engraved in symbols that Loki suspected not even Stephen knew the significance of; a shamrock triquetra double knot that gleamed more gold turned one way, a more burnished bronze when turned another.

Aífe must have been thinking of him when she crafted this, he mused.

What would Stephen say if he knew The Ancient One was every bit a hopeless romantic as he was?

Knowing Stephen, he would probably be all churlish and demand to know which of them Loki favoured – his dear husband was competitive and utterly ridiculous like that.

Little Aífe chose that moment to lash out enthusiastically and Loki gritted his teeth as her kicks damn near shattered his left lower ribs. It felt like they did. He hunched around the pain, and tried to soothe her with a gentle rub over where he last felt her head nudge his pelvis. Her restlessness was driving him to the point of madness tonight. “What _is_ the matter, little one?”

“Pappa, are you okay?”

“Stian?” The frown on Loki’s forehead turned into an exasperated semi-smile of disapproval as Stian climbed into the bed and wrapped his little arms around his unborn baby sister.

“Why is Daddy letting you stay up so late?” Loki buried his face in Stian’s hair. To his chagrin, his son smelled of burnt meat and animal dripping. “It’s almost midnight.”

“I wanted to play with my new stelescope, Pappa.”

“It’s telescope, my sweet.” There were no spells not worth learning, Frigga once told him. Case in point, Loki’s coveted deodorising spell - with a flourish, the stink was gone and Stian was back to smelling as good as little children should.

“Steloscope?” Stian echoed.

“Te-le-scope.” Loki punctuated each syllable of the word with a kiss on his head. “Stethoscopes are something pretentiously clever people like your Daddy would know how to use. Telescopes are things people of earth need to use to look at stars because their eyesight is not very good.”

Still, Loki could not help feeling a bit cross. “You shouldn’t be up. It’s way past your bedtime.”

“But the prettiest stars only come out at night, Pappa.” Stian did that thing with his eyes that made anyone even the slightest bit older than him turn to goo. “Please don’t make me go to bed.”

“And what does your Daddy have to say about all this?”

“Uncle Tony made him say yes.”

Loki simply had to smile.

_Yep. Thor is going to be so pissed._

“it’s Uncle Tony now, is it?” Loki smiled softly. “So what are you doing here then?”

“Daddy told me to come get you because the red moon looks so pretty!” Stian’s eyes twinkled as he wriggled off Loki into a W-sitting position. “And he says to hurry because the moon will be swallowed up soon and you won’t get to see anything like it for another twenty years.”

Loki’s heart skipped. “What did you say?”

Stian’s face fell slightly. “Uncle Tony told me the word but it’s a really hard word...”

_“Eclipse.”_

“That’s what he said! Eclisp.” Stian tasted the word on his tongue. “One day I want to be smart like you, Pappa.”

Never had Loki shot so quickly to his feet since he had fallen pregnant that the sudden deviation from his center of gravity from the weight of his gravid belly sent him reeling; he caught himself on the edge of the bedside table and pushed off of it in a mad scramble for the French windows in the kitchen, where he knew he could see the night sky –

The moon stared down at him, red as blood.

_As blood swallows the sky_

It would have been the perfect circle of a full moon, had it not already entered the penumbra and begun edging into the Earth’s shadow.

A total lunar eclipse of a blood moon. In the middle of January.

_The wolf shall awaken true_

Of course.

Tony Stark would not come all the way to Asgard just to look at stars.

But he would come if it was a Blood Wolf Moon Eclipse, and

_where do lunar eclipse stargazers flock to if not Norway?_

An uncontrollable shiver crawled upward from the very bottom of his spine.

_And so shall it devour you_

“Pappa?”

_It’s coming._

“It’s coming,” Loki breathed out, his hand white and trembling against the glass as he tried to block the moon with his fingers

Maybe if he couldn’t see it, it wouldn’t co -

A sudden shard of pain stabbed through his temples like an ice pick, blinding him temporarily as he groped for something, anything, to keep himself from falling – in his mad grappling for the window sill, his forehead banged into the window pane and Loki cried out in agony.

Something hot and warm seeped into the corner of his mouth. Fully expecting the saltiness of tears, the metallic tang on his tongue was odd.

Loki could not open his eyes for the hammering pain in his head, but Stian had never seen him this way, this would frighten him – Loki pressed the fleshy part of his thumb against his nose to staunch the bleeding.

“Pappa!” Small, terrified hands fisted around the belt of his robe cinched around his waist as they tried to pull him away from the window but Loki had locked his shaking knees in place to keep from sinking to the floor, and that scared Stian even more.

“Get…” He swallowed hard, his tongue too thick despite the sudden sandy dryness of his mouth. “Get…Daddy…”

Loki watched, paralysed, as the floor rushed to meet him, and his last dim thought before all senses left him was of his baby.

Then he started to seize.

_____________________________________

“You’re kinda quiet.”

Stephen’s eyebrow quirked in puzzled amusement. “I…don’t usually say much, if at all.”

“Quieter, then.”

“We are observing a celestial phenomenon, Stark. How noisy do you expect me to be?” Stephen murmured. “As noisy as the invite to this little stargazing party of yours?”

“Super Blood Wolf Moon is what the astronomers call it, I did not make that up!”

“Put a can on it, Tony, I don’t want your voice on the video!” Bruce shushed him.

“Ever heard of the mute button, smart guy?” Tony rolled his eyes.

“I’m surprised Loki didn’t join us,” Bruce said for the hundredth time. “Isn’t this kinda his thing?”

“My brother is heavy with child and could do well with some rest, Banner.”  “Loki isn’t a Wiccan nor a Pagan, Bruce.”

Thor and Stephen looked at each other and shared a congratulatory look of brotherly camaraderie.

Tony chuckled. “All hail the High Prince Consort of Asgard.” He ignored Stephen’s look of poison and opened another can of beer. He offered it to Stephen who declined with a regal wave of his Prince Consort hand.

“Have you heard of Doctor Profundus, Dr Banner?” He spoke in his Prince Consort voice.

“Is that the guy with the turban from Harry Potter?” was Tony’s spectacular guess. “The one who killed the unicorns?”

Stephen did not bother commenting on his friend’s atrocious conjecture.

“Thomas Bradwardine aka Doctor Profundus was the Archbishop of Canterbury in the mid-14th century, also a brilliant mathematician and philosopher who had studied with Arab astronomers. One night, he came across a witch when suddenly the moon eclipsed. The witch tried to take credit for the moon’s disappearance, and demanded he acquit her of all charges of nasty witchery business, lest she make the sun disappear next.”

Stephen picked up his son’s long-forgotten cup and took a sip of lukewarm punch.

“You are a terrible storyteller, Brother.” Thor blinked owlishly. “There is no ending to your story.”

Stephen gave his brother-in-law a blank stare. “He challenged her to tell him when the sun was going to disappear, and when she couldn’t, proceeded to tell her when the next solar and lunar eclipses were going to take place, how much the umbra was going to bite off the moon, down to the duration for which the eclipses were going to last.”

He sat back, looking awfully smug for telling a story that no one particularly found very interesting to begin with just to prove his point. “There is no witchcraft, Bruce. Only plain old knowledge.”

“I suppose magic doesn’t exist either?”

“Oh, magic definitely does exist.” Cerulean sparks of blue began to shimmer into existence on his lap. “Case in point –”

“Daddy!” Stian was hysterical. He pawed at his father’s sweater, body wracked with sobs.

“Stian?” Stephen frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Pappa, he’s –” Stian could not speak, he was sobbing so hard. Stian rocked violently in his arms as Stephen shot to his feet. “Pappa!”

Bruce exchanged looks of alarm with Tony, who quickly closed the vents and slammed the barbeque grill lid shut with a clang.

Thor was already dashing across the field of grass at lightning speed.

“God- _damn_ it, Loki.” Stephen’s hand trembled and he nearly dropped his sling ring. He handed Stian over to Bruce who began to rub comforting circles on the boy’s back. “Where is he, Stian? Where’s Pappa now?”

“K-Kitchen,” Stian’s breaths hitched. “Hurry, Daddy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cheese, but I couldn't help myself. These two need to be wedded, like, a decade ago.
> 
> Google Says: Aside from eclipses, the January full moon is often called the Wolf Moon, according to the Old Farmer's Almanac, and may date back to Native American tribes and early Colonial times when wolves would howl outside villages.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There's a looot of hugging in this chapter. If you're allergic to sap and angst, you might run into some problems. Same warning applies if you're allergic to medical drama.

_New Asgard, way back when_

 

“Thor, could we have a moment of your time?” Loki handed Stian over to the Valkyrie, who immediately whisked her little Revenger to the balcony. Ever since his latest near-death experience, Loki had been very reluctant to let their son out of his sight, and the moment he was strong enough to walk, there was no separating the two.

Stephen indulged him of course, and it had nothing to do with the cloud nine he had been walking on ever since Loki accepted his cleverly-worded proposal. Absolutely nothing, he thought dreamily.

But he had to confess, the prospect of breaking the news to Thor did fill him with the tiniest bit of dread.

Better Thor than Odin, Loki had said, in his attempt to assuage his fiancé’s apprehension.

“Is it urgent, Brother?” Thor gave Loki a distracted smile. “It’s just these trade treaties need signing or we will not be getting the beer in time for the festivities to greet the harvest in.”

“I –” Stephen caught himself. “ _We_ have something ki-iinda important to tell you.”

Thor’s hand stilled around his quill. “You’re not unwell, are you, Brother?” His nose flared.

Thor slammed his quill down, sending splatters of ink all over his antique King Louis XV writing desk.

“Are you dying again?” he demanded.

“What? _No!_ ”

Stephen sighed. “I think we’d better sit down for this.” He gave Thor a tight, sickly smile. “May we sit down, Majesty?”

“Of course,” Thor assented. He warily studied Stephen’s antsy, almost anxious countenance for a few seconds, before shifting his attention toward his brother. His eyes narrowed suspiciously at Loki’s particularly ruddy complexion. One would not think by looking at him that just two days ago, his brother had almost exsanguinated to death. Again. Within the same month.

It was a record, even for Loki.

“Loki, why are you blushing?”

“What? I’m not! I’m just, ah…hot. It’s ah…kinda warm in here. Don’t you think?” Loki turned helplessly toward his fiancé. Unsure of what to do, Stephen half-thinkingly grabbed for his hand as he tried to find the words to say; they seemed to have all left him – he had rehearsed them too!

Thor gaped. Unaware of what he was doing, he began thumping his fist against the table. “Stephen.”

Stephen’s lips bared into neither a smile nor a grimace, showing his clenched teeth. “Yes?”

The thumping grew louder. “Did you get my brother pregnant again?”

“Oh, for Norn’s sake.” Loki rolled his eyes. He stood up, hand still in Stephen’s – “Thor.”

Stephen scrambled to his feet. He had to say it first!

“Stephen and I are engaged to be married.” “I have asked Loki to marry me.”

 _Damn it!_ He glared at Loki.

“About time.” Thor coolly picked up his quill again.

Stephen and Loki stared at him, dumbfounded.

Well. Loki may be flabbergasted, Stephen was simply relieved all his pieces were still in one piece.

“So…do we have your blessing?”

“As King of Asgard, or as your brother?”

Loki’s eyes softened. “You were my brother long before you became my King.”

“Thank you, Loki. You don’t know what it means to me that you have come to ask me for the blessing of your union.”

“Of course I would come to you.” Loki said softly. “I have no one else.”

After a short eternity,

“And you shall have it.” Thor’s eyes were wet.

He turned his attention once more toward Stephen.

“I trust you will care for my brother, and all your children by him, and never betray, hurt or give up on him, and that you will agree, should you breach any of these conditions, to waive the rights to your own head and you will grant me leave to separate it from your body?”

Stephen’s throat went as dry as sandpaper. “I will.”

“And there shall be no amendment to this vow you have taken in front of me today?”

Stephen turned his head slowly to look Loki right in his beautiful eyes. “No, there shall not be any amendment to this vow I take in front of you today.”

“Well then.” Thor held out a hand to Stephen. “Welcome to the family.”

“T-Thank you, Majesty,” he almost stuttered. “I ah, won’t let you down.”

Nothing could have said ‘We’ll see’ better than Thor’s raised eyebrow.

Stephen and Loki quickly excused themselves and hurried for the door before Thor could have a turnabout and change his mind –

“Oh, and Loki.” With a wince, Loki halted in his steps.

Thor spread a hand, gesturing at the ink-splattered documents strewn across his desk. “Can you do me a quick favour and do something about this mess?”

Loki sighed and exaggeratingly trudged toward the table, and was about to wave a hand to magic away the stains, when suddenly Thor rose from the chair and threw his arms around his brother. Startled, Loki almost stumbled, but Thor fiercely hugged him, and Loki’s arms slowly rose to gently cup the back of Thor’s shoulders.

He heard Thor whisper in his ear, “You chose well, Brother.”

Loki nodded his chin into the flesh of Thor’s shoulder. His eyes welled. “Thank you, Thor.”

_____________________________________

_New Asgard, Present Time_

 

“Hey, you,” Stephen managed, his voice thick. “Welcome back.”

“Stephen,” Loki murmured. He tried to open his eyes but they were heavier than lead. From the beeping sounds around him and the feel of hard mattress on his back and the needles in his hands, he had a fairly good idea where he was.

“I’m here.” He felt Stephen’s lips brush against his, but he could not muster the energy to purse his lips to respond. He felt so _weak_ , his muscles cramping and screaming in pain as though he had run an entire day without stopping.

“Stian?” he whispered.

“He’s with Thor and Valkyrie, don’t you worry.”

“Can’t…let him…see...” Loki’s eyes were mere slits; the lights were too bright, much too bright – “The curse…”

“What?” Stephen’s forehead furrowed. “What curse?”

He ran a shaky hand through Loki’s tangled hair. “There is no curse, Loki. It’s your blood pressure, it’s shot up and causing a shitload of problems.”

Loki nuzzled his forehead into Stephen’s palm. “Hmm?”

“Remember the thing Christine told us to look out for?” Stephen’s voice was soft, lulling. “It ended up happening. You had a seizure.”

“The baby?” He remembered falling, remembered Aífe shifting inside him like a tempest –

“She’s hanging in there, for now. But there isn’t any time to waste.” He knew how much Loki had wanted a normal delivery this time around, but delivering the baby as soon as possible was the only definitive treatment, and he could not afford taking the risk, not when Loki’s blood pressure was off the charts.

“Once Christine gets here, we will deliver her, and you will be just fine.”

Stephen kissed Loki’s knuckles desperately. “You’ll be fine.”

“What…” Loki squeezed his eyes shut and shuddered. He breathed out a sob, “My head, Stephen...”

Stephen’s face was white with fear as he massaged his thumb along the back of Loki’s ear. “Shh, try to relax. This will all be over soon.”

“I feel strange,” Loki said dimly. “Like I’m…un-underwater...”

“He’s seizing again!” Somebody shouted. And a flurry of activity flocked toward them and an oxygen mask was quickly placed over Loki’s face.

“Give me IV Clonazepam 2mg, quickly!” Stephen ordered, snapping back into autopilot mode. He wrested Loki onto his left side. After a minute passed with the convulsion showing no sign of ceasing, “Get ready to intubate. Dr Banner, can I count on you?”

The desperation in Stephen’s eyes was all the push Bruce needed. “Of course.”

“Stark?” He whirled around to find Tony hanging up his phone and giving him a thumbs-up.

“That was Pepper. She’s got the surgical as well as the paediatric team assembled, all ready to go.”

Tony could not take his eyes off Loki, whose entire body was locked in tetanic convulsion, veins prominent against his long neck, stretched and taut. Was Loki even breathing? “Anytime, uh, anytime you’re ready, Doctor.”

_________________________________

Christine hugged him fiercely. “How is he?”

“He’s on maintenance IV magnesium sulphate on maximum dose, but has had two episodes of breakthrough seizures, arrested with benzodiazepines both times. Hasn’t shown signs of magnesium toxicity, but we might have to add in phenytoin if he continues to fit,” Stephen rattled off.

“Blood pressure’s labile, but so far hydralazine’s keeping it more or less under control. Labetalol’s out of the question, it makes him wheezy and drops the oxygen sats.”

Christine may look like a saint, but she worked like the devil. She took one look at Loki and something in her face changed. “The paediatric team here?”

Wong too, could move like the wind if the situation called for it. “Wong’s portalled them all in. The neonatal team is ready.”

She stared at Loki, whose intubated and stuporous form was a far cry from the terrified but brave, _very_ brave, (despite his panicky babbling) Norse demigod from Outer Space she had met five years ago.

She would take babbling Loki over this deathly-still Loki any day.

“Push him in. Now.”

____________________________________________

Little Aífe stirred in his arms, content after her first feeding. If Stian had been tiny in Thor’s arms, his sister was even tinier, but Thor could not have been gentler. He could fit her entire head in his palm, and Thor could swear his breath caught in his chest several times as he marvelled at the miracle Stephen had placed moments ago in his arms.

“She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” he murmured. If Stian had the glossiest black hair, his niece had a full head of hair in the softest shade of auburn, Loki’s high forehead and thin lips, and the most startling grey eyes, much like Stephen’s piercing own. “Her hair is the most unusual colour.”

“She takes after Donna,” Stephen murmured. At Thor’s inquiring gaze, “My ah…My late sister.”

Thor stared at him with an indescribable expression on his face, and it took Stephen ages to realise what it was. Stephen had lost a sibling, one that was clearly very much beloved for Stephen to have never talked about her, never mentioned her…until today.

Perhaps now they had finally found one thing they had in common.

“I’m sorry, Stephen.” Thor regarded his brother-in-law, his newly-found kindred spirit with a gentleness that had never really been there before.

“Don’t be,” Stephen said softly. “She’s…she’s looking down on us. From wherever she is. I’m sure of it.”

Thor only nodded, and would have said something else had he not been distracted by a tiny hand tugging on his cape. He looked down and smiled. “Would you like to hold her, Stian?”

“Please, may I, Uncle Thor?” Let it never be said that Stian was not the politest boy in the universe. A master of words, just like his Pappa. “Can I hold my sister, Daddy?”

“Of course, buddy.”

“What do we call her, Daddy?”

“Aífe.”

Stian’s lips worked around the name for a little while before finally trying it, “Eva?”

Stephen hesitated, before planting a kiss on top of his son’s head. “Close enough.”

To his utter horror, Stian began to cry.

His little boy had always been somewhat of a bawler despite his sweet disposition, but this time his tears slid down his snow-white cheeks silently without a sound.

“Oh Stian…” Stephen wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

Thor moved to take Aífe out of his arms but if anything, Stian tightened his hold possessively around his little sister. “I’m trying to be strong, Daddy.”

“Poor Eva.” Stian nuzzled Aífe’s cheek tenderly. “You only have me and Daddy, now, Sister.”

“Stian.” Stephen’s heart began to thunder in his chest. “What are you saying?”

“Pappa won’t wake up.” Stian sniffed.

The tears had stopped. He was a strong boy alright. “The wolf got to him. He’s never waking up.”

Stephen reared back as if stung, his face drained of all colour. Thor was equally stunned, dropping into his chair like a stone.

As if on cue, came a soft but urgent knock on the door. Christine stuck her head in. “Stephen, a minute?”

________________________________

Stephen shone his pen torch into Loki’s pupils. He had nothing against Christine’s impeccable clinical skills, but he simply had to see it for himself…and true enough, Loki’s pupils were unequal and poorly responsive to his light.

He swallowed hard against the hard lump in his throat.

“We haven’t been able to extubate, his respiratory efforts were very poor, and his GCS has dropped from 12 to 8 within the last hour.” Christine halted. “I think he’s coning –”

“Don’t.” Stephen said roughly. “Don’t say it.”

_No._

“Stephen.”

He ignored her. He grabbed Loki’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, and upon receiving no response, he squeezed it again _harder_ , hoping against hope that Loki was in there somewhere, somewhere Stephen could still reach him, that by a stroke of magic or miracle he would somehow respond…

But alas, Loki’s fingers lay limp in his grasp, giving not even the slightest twitch.

“We need…we need to move him.” Strangely hollow, Stephen felt rather than heard himself mumble, the tips of his fingers tingling with a peculiar, icy numbness. “We need to move him to another facility, somewhere equipped with neuroimaging.”

He took a deep breath and the numbness receded only slightly, his head clearing only a fraction. “A CT scan, or MRI.”

“No, we don’t.” Tony crossed his arms. “Your CT scanner is arriving in approximately half an hour.”

Stephen stared at him. Now the numbness had somehow spread to his face. He could not for the life of him speak.

“Ask, and it is yours, remember?” Tony reminded him lightly.

Stephen was still staring at him, having been rendered utterly speechless.

“Well, I know you didn’t exactly ask but,” Tony hesitated only for a millisecond, “Your ex was already ahead of you.” He nodded at Christine. “Sorry. Not that I was snooping or anything.” Christine gave him a tight smile – “I caught her asking around, calling hospitals around Oslo, Bergen…Stavanger… but I doubt you would want to move Loki, not in his condition.”

Tony shrugged casually. “So I just went out and bought one.”

“Stark…” A run-of-the-mill CT scanner could cost up to a million dollars, two million for a bigger one and Asgardians weren’t exactly tiny people – “I can’t possibly ask you to do that.”

“You’re family, Stephen,” Tony stressed. “And that makes Loki family too. By accidental extension.”

“Besides, didn’t you hear?” A lop-sided grin. “I’m Uncle Tony, now.”

 _Screw it, Stephen,_ a voice said. _You don’t ever look a gift horse in the mouth._

Stephen’s arms moved on their own and found themselves grabbing and pulling the billionaire into a tight embrace. “Yeah. Yeah, you are.”

The hug Tony returned was equally fierce. “There’s no getting rid of me now, Strange.”

“Apparently not.” Stephen snorted, not unfondly. “Wouldn’t even dream of trying.”

___________________________________

“Wong.”

Wong grunted, as he concentrated on his healing spell. Stephen stole a glance and had a feeling he was wearing the same alarmed expression his friend was wearing on his usually impassive and calm-under-pressure face.

“Is it just me, or is he rejecting my magic?”

“Something is blocking our healing energies, Strange,” Wong said tersely. “I can sense a foreign magic barring us entry. And it’s not Loki.”

“No. That – this cannot happen.” Stephen swallowed hard. His face felt hot with the achingly-familiar rush of adrenaline. “He has bled inside his brain, Wong. We need to break the clot if we have any hope of relieving the pressure on his brainstem.”

Wong said nothing. His mandala dissipated. He sat back a second and stared at Loki’s face. He pulled back his eyelids and studied the bloodshot eyes where the conjunctival vessels had blown in Loki’s series of seizures.

Wong tried again, this time with a different spell, to counteract the foreign magic he could feel brewing underneath Loki’s scalp, but again his magic was met with a dense, vault-like wall.

“It’s like steel-reinforced concrete. I can’t break through.” Stephen heard the first hint of panic in Wong’s voice and as hard as he tried to let it pass over him like water, he felt his gut sicken with a cold, raging fear.

“So it’s true then. It’s a curse.” Stephen echoed Stian’s words. “The _wolf_.”

“I have felt this energy before. Four, five years ago.”

“Where?”

“I felt it on you.” Wong was sure of it. “This dark energy, it is similar to that of the Sorcerer you fought, the one who gutted you from the inside out.”

“Orri.”

He remembered it now, the sheer agony of magic so dark it had taken him almost a month to be entirely rid of the lingering pains in his stomach. Abruptly, Stephen lifted his hand off his husband’s forehead. “Loki never mentioned any curse.”

_What have you been keeping from me, Loki?_

“It’s going to take me some time to try to undo this curse. I will have to go back to The Sanctum.” Wong gathered the courage to meet Stephen’s eyes.

“There is no time,” Stephen whispered sickly. Loki’s intracranial pressure was steadily rising by the hour, any longer they would risk permanent brain damage, and inevitably, death.

“Stephen…” Wong said in a tone somewhere between placating and warning.

“There is no _time!”_

The rage exploded within him, erupting in a blast of chaotic energy that overturned a trolley filled with various surgical instruments, sending them crashing to the floor. Bruce and Thor who were watching from the observatory barged in.

“Strange?” Thor demanded. “What happened?”

Seeing nothing but red, Stephen slammed a fist into the wall with a cry of sheer frustration, and stalked out of the room.

The remaining men stared at each other in shock and started as the double doors to the adjoining induction room slammed shut with a bang.

____________________________________

Stephen did not need to turn around to see who it was that had followed him in his fit of tantrum.

“Thor…” He shut his eyes, and placed his hands on his hips. “Now…now is not a good time.”

“You seem to be upset, Brother.”

Stephen barked a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Upset.”

He whirled around and hissed, _“Upset?”_

“Loki is dying, Thor!” Stephen shouted. “He gave birth to our second child and did not even get the chance to hold her and now he is dying from some intracranial bleeding that I cannot fix due to some obscure curse by a dead Sorcerer that he never even bothered to tell me about!”

“And that surprises you?” Thor was astonishingly calm. “He has been doing that on a regular basis ever since we were children.”

Stephen’s hands fell away from his hips as his shoulders began to shake, in grief or in fury, he could no longer tell.

“My husband is dying right in front of my eyes, and there is nothing I can do.” Stephen sounded almost weeping.

Thor felt something in him harden. “I have never known you to sell yourself short, Strange. Certainly not when Loki’s life is as stake, as it has been many times before, ever since he met you.”

He marched forward to twirl Stephen around to face him. “Look around you. I am not so blinded by my love for my brother to be deluded into thinking that their presence here is solely for the sake of my brother.” Thor pressed his index finger gently on his chest. “They are here for _you_.”

“And I believe they are still here because they believe in you, that you will get through this,” Thor laid a hand on his stiff shoulder, “And get Loki through this, as you have done before.”

Stephen palmed his eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Thor,” he whispered his confession.

Thor was quiet. “I think you do.”

“When you first came to me asking for Loki’s hand in marriage, I agreed to it readily because I was hoping some reverse psychology would give Loki second thoughts about marrying you, but…” Stephen glowered, and Thor sniffed, not looking the least bit guilty. “You make him happy.”

“And that’s all I ever wanted for my brother.” Thor gripped his shoulder. “Someone who loves him and accepts him for who he is.”

Stephen was still wrapped in his own cocoon of hopelessness and delusion of worthlessness. “My hands are useless. My magic is useless.”

“It was never your magic that Loki needed, Stephen. He has plenty of it of his own.” Thor covered his shaking hands with his own. “It was your humanity.”

“You have saved my brother time and time again,” Thor reminded him fiercely. “Even when you thought all hope was lost.”

“You never gave up.”

Stephen’s eyes welled. Thor saw, and with no hesitation, gathered Stephen in a one-armed embrace, cupping his large hand around the back of Stephen’s neck.

“No amendments, Stephen.”

Stephen shuddered. He took the longest, deepest breath he could.

He squared his shoulders and looked Thor in the eye. “No amendments.”

“Now, brother-in-law.” Thor braved a watery smile of his own. “Are you ready to get back out there?”

____________________________________

“I think it’s time to call in old favours, Strange.”

Stephen laid a hand on Loki’s forehead. He hoped Loki was dreaming the sweetest of dreams, that no nightmares or pain had followed him where Stephen could not reach.

_Or the wolf_

He inhaled deeply. And nodded his head.

“I’ll make some calls.” Christine squeezed his arm.

“No, I’ll call him.” He reached out to catch her wrist as she turned.

“What will you say?”

“The truth. That my husband is in a coma with a massive intracranial bleed that requires urgent neurosurgical decompression, and that I am in desperate need of his help.”

“You have changed.”

“It’s not about me, Christine.”

“It’s about Loki. And everyone who cares for him. And everyone who needs him.” Stephen’s eyes stung, but he refused to let the tears come. He had to be strong. Yet his voice broke, “Our _children_.”

Stephen wanted nothing more than to taste Loki’s lips but the respirator was in the way, so he settled for a gentle kiss on his cold, cold forehead. “My pride be damned.”

__________________________________

Dr Nicodemus West thought he had seen everything, having worked in one of the busiest departments in one of the biggest hospitals in New York City, dealing with gunshot wounds to the head, traumatic brain injuries, what have you.

But when a peculiarly-dressed Asian man accosted him on the way home after a long shift and forcefully ushered him (he refused to say kidnapped, _such_ negative connotation to it, since Christine did tell him beforehand what was going to happen, and what to expect after all) into a ring of fire, from which he emerged not only unscathed, but unscathed in _Norway_ –

Yeah, he had not seen everything.

Now he found himself in a palace of some sort, expected to perform brain surgery on an Alien Prince, who also turned out to be the husband of Stephen Strange. _The_ Stephen Strange.

He was immediately whisked into the surgical suite.

“Dr West.”

“Dr Strange.” Stephen nodded. “It’s been a while.”

The scans went up. Nick whistled. “Tricky.” He peered closer. _“Impressive.”_

“Right?” As weird as it may sound, Stephen felt very proud of Loki’s brain structure and its vasculature. Not so much the expanding clot that was impinging on his husband’s brainstem and bringing him closer to death’s door by the hour.

“How should we approach this? Decompressive craniectomy?”

Surprised at the courtesy Strange was showing him by asking his opinion instead of ordering him what to do, Nick felt his tight chest loosen and his anxiety dissipate. “I think it’s feasible to do it less invasively.”

“Endoscopically?” Stephen sounded surprised, and more than a little impressed. “Can you do that?”

Nick nodded. “It would not be possible if not for his unique anatomy. I can enter from the occiput, make sure the trajectory doesn’t run far off course, evacuate the haematoma, and come out again.”

Stephen studied the scans as if debating the merits of foregoing the traditional and adopting the unconventional method, but his eyes finally softened. Loki was far from conventional. And Nick…

In his absence, Nick had become the maverick, if his recent track record was anything to go by.

“Go for it, Dr West,” Stephen consented.

Nick turned to finally look at him.

The last he heard of the former neurosurgery maestro was that he had become a recluse, squandering all his fortune on treatments, orthodox and unorthodox alike, to restore his hands. And not long after, it was as if he had disappeared from the face of the earth, and Nick had spent countless nights wondering what had become of Dr Stephen Strange, the fear that his failure had somehow driven his former colleague to suicide keeping him from sleeping.

“I’m glad to see you’re still alive.”

“I’m…flattered.”

“I suppose you’ll be observing?”

Stephen was quiet. “Would you rather I didn’t?”

“Depends.” Nick shrugged. “As long as you don’t wear a watch, I don’t really care one way or another.”

All awkwardness and tension broke as they both burst into chuckles, despite the seriously dire situation.

“God, I was such as an ass.”

Nick was quiet. “You were.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s forgotten.” Nick inhaled deeply. He waved in the direction of the OT. “Shall we?”

______________________________________________

It went without saying that the surgery was a success.

Stephen had watched with bated breath as Nick’s skilled, steady hands manoeuvred the endoscopes through the unfamiliar anatomy of Loki’s brain with a confidence Stephen had not seen in a fellow neurosurgeon, having last seen it in himself.

Nick commanded a full visual control despite the minimal exposure conferred through the tiny burrholes drilled into Loki’s cranium, and when the massive blood clot finally appeared on the video monitor, Stephen could feel his breath stagnate in his chest.

Nick looked at him and inhaled deeply, as though urging Stephen to emulate, and he did. Only when Stephen had exhaled, were they both calm enough to proceed. “Ready, Dr Strange?”

“Ship’s all yours, old boy,” Stephen breathed out shakily. The thrill had never left him, and he watched transfixed with a deep sense of melancholic nostalgia as Nick blasted the clot and sucked it out in one try. He irrigated the haematoma cavity and coagulated all the bleeding vessels with an expertise Stephen had once commanded himself.

 _“Fantastic.”_ Stephen had shaken his head in amazement. “Fantastic job.”

And how Nick had smiled…

Now they stood at the mouth of the portal, Asgard on one side, New York on the other.

“Again. I’m sorry.”

“And again, it’s forgotten, Dr Strange,” Nick finally gave him a small smile. “You were…a necessary evil.”

“I’m flattered.” The Sorcerer Supreme straightened, and told Nick the one truth he could no longer deny. “And you were mine.”

Nick’s smile widened and this time, it was genuine. “I take that as a compliment.”

Never in a million years could he have imagined such a reunion, and as Stephen stood facing his former colleague, his once arch-rival, and almost-friend, it dawned on him just how small and insignificant their rivalry had been in the grand scheme of things.

“I did everything I could.” He knew not if Nick meant the irreparable damage to his hands all those years ago, or the emergency procedure he had just done to relieve the pressure on Loki’s brain, or perhaps both, but whatever it was, the desperate plea for approval in his words was something Stephen could no longer accept – it sickened him to admit it but it was something the old Stephen would have gloated over.

“I know you did, Nick.”

The Stephen of now knew to count his blessings, for what could he have possibly done to deserve all these people in his life who were leaving no stone unturned to help in his desperate time of need was anyone’s guess. And in hindsight, he had blamed Nick West for the loss of his hands when he should have thanked him instead.

Stephen held out his hand. “Thank you.”

Nick stared at the hand not a moment too long before he accepted it. “You take care, Stephen.”

“You have a beautiful family,” was the last thing Nick said before he stepped into the portal. “You’re very lucky.”

Stephen’s sad smile remained long after the portal flickered out into nothingness. “Don’t I know it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some references to the Dr Strange movie in case you haven't watched:  
> Dr Nick West was a fellow surgeon pre-accident Dr Strange used to make fun of because he found him inferior. In a critical scene when Dr Strange needed to remove a bullet from a patient's head, Nick's watch was ticking so loudly in the deadly silence of the OT that Stephen requested him to cover his wrist because it was distracting his genius. 
> 
> Some terms:  
> Haematoma - collection of blood, usually congealed
> 
> Endoscope - long, probe-like things with a camera/cutting instrument/sucking port/water port at the end, used in minimally-invasive surgeries, when you don't want to cut people up so much.
> 
> Neurosurgical decompression - procedure done to relieve the pressure when the brain gets compressed from blood, swelling, fluid, tumour etc.
> 
> Coning - as the brain is encapsulated in a rigid skull, it doesn't have much give at all. So due to whatever reason mentioned above, any region of the brain can become compressed because it's so squishy and if it is the brainstem that is compressed and herniated, then you're in deep trouble because that's where all your main controls are i.e. breathing, consciousness, heart rate, blood pressure.
> 
> I appreciate and love all your comments, kudoses and subscriptions, guys. THANK YOU.


	21. While You Were Sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen reminisces.

_New Asgard, way back when_

 

Bliss.

If he had known intimate coupling as newly-engaged people deeply in love would be this phenomenal, he would have asked Loki to marry him a long time ago. More than once over the course of the night he had had to reinforce the wards around their room so as to not wake their son and the whole of Asgard with the cosmic explosion of their repeated intercourse.

He turned his head to look at his fiancé lying an arm span away next to him. He stretched out and lightly traced his finger along the side of Loki’s upper arm. Loki did not flinch.

Stephen chuckled to himself. For all his stamina and insatiability and raucous debauchery within the privacy of their bedroom, once his Ice Prince was spent, he _melted_.

 _God_ he hoped he had not gotten Loki pregnant.

As Loki lay dead to the world in post-coital stupor, his long, lean body, deliciously tangled in silk sheets, reminded Stephen of a Quality Street toffee on a Christmas day, and the sheer thrill that the imagery sent coursing through his body was _intense_.

Then again, Loki being pregnant again was not the worst thing that could happen. Most definitely not.

That was it. Stephen was waking him up.

He twisted his body to reach for his fiancé, fully intent on rousing Loki despite risking his royal wrath, but the abrupt movement sent sudden shooting pains through his entire abdomen, and Stephen let out an involuntary cry.

“Stephen?” The sheets rustled as Loki shifted under the covers; cool fingers soon wrapped themselves around the inner bend of his elbow.

“What’s the matter?” He heard Loki murmur drowsily.

Loki’s green eyes narrowed as they caught sight of Stephen’s arm wrapped protectively around his midsection. “Is your stomach hurting again?”

“Some.” He gritted his teeth.

Loki let out something between a grunt and a mewl in displeasure.

“Did we – ” Loki hesitated, his forehead creasing in as much guilt as concern. “Did we overdo it?”

Stephen laughed. “No, my dear, at most I just pulled a muscle or something. And it was totally worth it.”

The horror on Loki’s face was only something Stephen had ever seen once or twice ever since he knew him. It was the terrified look Loki could not hide when occasionally Stephen’s human body reminded him of his fiancé’s mortality and as much as Stephen wanted to downplay Loki’s irrational fears, he just did not have the heart.

“Hey. I’m okay, really.” He patted Loki’s hand reassuringly. “It will pass. It always does.”

Loki still looked stricken. “Stomach pains can be a sign of a heart attack in a human. I read it somewhere when I was researching all the possible ways you could die, other than the usual death by dragons and accidental splicing of the body from time travel accidents.”

 _O-kay. What a tangent._ But,

“It’s true.” Stephen shrugged his shoulders. Man, he really should defuse this, Loki was seconds away from bursting into tears – “It’s not a heart attack, Loki.”

“How would you know?” Loki sniffed furiously.

“Because…I’m a human and I have a medical degree?” He tried appealing to Loki’s logic. “And besides people who get such atypical symptoms of heart attacks are usually diabetics or the very old, and I am neither.”

Loki was having none of it. “I don’t want to wake up tomorrow morning with a dead body next to me in my bed. I don’t want to be left a widower so soon just because the wrong parent died and have to raise a baby on my own, doubting everything I do and every decision I make.”

As vulgar and as dark as Loki’s words and thoughts were respectively, Stephen could not help but feel very warmed inside. “Loki –”

“Also, it would ruin my marriage prospects.”

Stephen’s stomach hurt even worse now. He groaned both in pain and displeasure alike.

All senses of impending doom seemingly abandoned in favour of Stephen’s wellbeing, Loki was all over him in an instant, his hand anxiously searching for the source of pain. Warm, gentle seidr soon soothed the cramping sensations and Stephen began to relax as his bowels ceased to spasm.

“You’re fully healed inside,” Loki said somewhat suspiciously. He did not understand why Stephen was still getting pains.

“Some degree of visceral hypersensitivity can remain for an indefinite period of time after any insult,” Stephen murmured. “Usually happens post-surgery or infection, but I’m guessing it can happen post-voodoo attacks too.”

Loki stared at him frostily. He asked the one thing that mattered. “I don’t know what that means but can it kill you or can it not?”

“No, it can’t.”

At the disbelieving look on Loki’s face, Stephen placed his own hand over Loki’s. “It won’t. It will go away with time, as long as I take it easy.”

“You should have let me ride you,” Loki groused.

Stephen tried to hide his smile under a wince, “And miss out on this?”

“Ever heard of role plays, Doctor? You don’t need to be in real pain to get my attention, you know.”

“Oh I don’t know, Loki. The things you say sometimes make me wonder…” _Wait a minute._ “Role plays?”

Loki gave him an evil glare. “Don’t push it.”

Clearly still tired, Loki collapsed next to him and snuggled his head through the crook of Stephen’s arm, his hand still dispensing numbing magic all over Stephen’s midriff.

“Thank you, Loki.” He planted a soft kiss on top of Loki’s head.

“Just returning the favour,” Loki murmured sleepily. “My hands are magic too, you know.”

Stephen played with the ends of Loki’s hair at the base of his skull. He was starting to miss Loki’s long hair, at least there would have been more of it to play with.

“Everything about you is magic, Loki.”

“Hmm.”

Yep. Stephen was never cutting Loki’s hair again. He would never put him at risk again.

“Pain’s gone. You can sleep now, Loki.”

“In a minute.”

Stephen waited until the minute was up.

“I love you.”

Loki did not answer, having already drifted off once more, but from the way his hand was still emanating the gentle warmth of seidr even in sleep…

Stephen had never felt so blessed, for perhaps Loki really loved him too.

_________________________________

_New Asgard, present time_

 

Stephen awoke with a startle to a sudden beeping sound, faint yet seeming to demand urgent attention, judging from the incessant flashing of the alarm indicator. “Loki?”

Loki had not moved. It was just the pulse oximeter that had slipped off the end of his finger. Stephen leaned forward to refasten it.

Stephen looked at the clock. It was ten in the evening, and the activity in the healing halls had died down somewhat; it was Stephen himself who had dismissed most of them for the night, now that Loki was safely delivered and out of immediate danger.

Christine had offered to stay with him but by the order of the King, she had gone to rest in one of the rooms provided for royal guests, having only done so very reluctantly with the explicit order that Stephen were to call her immediately at the first sign of deterioration.

“Your Highness?”

Stephen turned. He never liked to be addressed as such, this girl must be new –

He looked down at the item the Healer apprentice was holding in her palm. He recognised the pouch as the one the Healers used to hold personal items for patients under their care, and from the style, it was one meant for the royal family.

“This was found in Prince Loki’s possession when we prepared him earlier for extubation.” She hesitated. “We would have returned it sooner had we not only just realised what he was holding in his hand, we could not extricate it prior to his surgery for he was gripping it so tightly in the throes of seizure.”

“Thank you,” he said numbly. The girl curtsied hastily before scurrying away in a hurry.

Stephen tipped the object out onto his palm.

He stared at it. And closed his eyes against the sudden pain in his heart.

_“Were you trying to get to me, Loki?”_

Stephen ran his fingers over the smooth edge of the sling ring. The gold felt heavy and cold in his palm, its weight trebling the pain raging through his very soul.

_“Why won’t you answer me?”_

Was it too much to ask? That Loki should be able to answer him?

 _“What would you do in my position, I wonder?”_ he pondered, but The Ancient One remained silent, as silent as her ring in his hand. _“Where would you go to bargain?”_

He could see her so clearly in his mind’s eye, could even hear her response, “Where would I _not_ go?” She would say with that half-smirk, half-genuine smile on her face.

Stephen reached for Loki’s hand and balled it into a fist in his own.  The hard edge of the sling ring indented the white skin of Loki’s knuckles, but Stephen ignored it, maybe if Loki were to feel a bit of pain, he would wake up – would open his eyes again and look at him and say something sharp and bitey and Stephen would just smile and kiss him right in that smart mouth of his –

But Loki remained sleeping.

There used to be nothing Stephen loved more than the sight of Loki sleeping, the sharp, hard lines of his face relaxed in peaceful slumber.

Now…there was nothing Stephen hated more.

He held their balled hands to his forehead. The cold of the sling ring bit more into his skin, much more than the dry coolness of Loki’s skin.

_Where do I go to bargain?_

___________________________________

  _New Asgard, way back when_

 

“Where will we have it?”

“Hmm?”

“The wedding?”

“Here of course.” Loki gestured for Stian to raise his arms. Stian followed, and Loki pulled a jumper over his son’s head. “Can’t deprive the people of the Royal Wedding of the century.”

“Thor’s backing out of the deal with the Council, says he’s not going to be bullied into the marriage bed of some woman he doesn’t love,” he continued viciously, toning it down a little as Stian’s head emerged from the collar and he blew Stian’s hair out of his eyes, eliciting many a happy giggle.

Stephen winced but did not say anything. Loki caught it nonetheless.

“What is it?”

“It’s not going to be like one of those awful, sordid affairs that gets broadcast all over the world, is it?” The look on Stephen’s face was one of someone who had just eaten something foul. “With all the pageantry and handwaving and whatnot?”

The look of abject horror on Loki’s face was something to behold. “Let’s elope, Stephen.”

“I have a suspicion that would be treason punishable by death…” Thor did not put it in those exact words but Stephen kinda got the gist.

Loki was not listening. “We’re eloping.”

“Hey, hey. No panicking allowed, remember?”  

“It hasn’t been announced yet, there’s still time –”

Stephen dropped down onto the edge of the bed and circled his arms around his fiancé and their son.

“It can be as big or as small as you want it, Loki.”

Loki moaned. “Why did I have to be a prince?”

“Uh, it beats being a commoner surely…”

“Not by a _mile_.” Loki bared his teeth. “You have no idea what they’re going to make you wear, do you?”

“Stop making scary faces, you’re going to make Stian cry.” Stephen swallowed. “W-What do you mean, what am I going to have to wear?”

Loki pursed his lips and studied him, before running his eyes down the length of Stephen’s body. “Hmm. You might actually look good in it.”

Stephen covered Stian’s ears, and hissed. “Whatever I end up wearing, or not wearing, will it leave _anything_ to the imagination?”

Loki drew his lips back as if to say ‘ _Eep_.’

Stephen drew back in horror. “We’re going to Vegas. Now.”

Loki only threw his head back and laughed.

______________________________________

_New Asgard, present time_

 

“Did you sleep out here all night?”

Stephen nodded at the small cot at one corner of the room. “Couldn’t get comfortable.”

He watched with bleary eyes as Christine pulled the curtain around them to begin her examination; she flashed her light into Loki’s eyes, before proceeding to conduct a full neurological examination.

“Everything’s normal,” Stephen mumbled. “I’ve checked.”

“I know you have,” she said softly. She was done reviewing her patient but was still holding his hand in her lap, her frown one of confusion and incomprehension. “There’s no reason why he should still be in a coma.”

After a beat,

“No clinical reason,” he corrected her. His voice was flat and subdued.

She looked at him sharply. Realisation dawned on her that this was something beyond her field of expertise. “What are you going to do?”

Stephen did not answer.

“I’m going to see to our daughter and let Loki hold her for a while.”

Her eyes softened. “Do you want me to get her for you?”

The gratitude in his tired eyes tugged on the strings of her heart. “I’ll get them to send you something to eat. You haven’t had anything since yesterday, have you?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“No one is, Stephen.” Christine laid Loki’s hand gently down on the bed and stood. “That’s not what I asked.”

Stephen barely felt the warmth of her arms as she hugged him tightly from behind for a few seconds before she left.

Loki looked cold. Now that he was breathing on his own, Stephen should be free to kiss him as much as he wanted but something about Loki’s cold, unresponsive lips stopped him every time; it was Loki he wanted to kiss, not an empty shell.

He must have day-dreamed for minutes on end for a cot suddenly appeared next to him, jarring him out of his reverie. “I’ll give you guys some privacy.”

“Thanks, Christine.” She squeezed his shoulder and left.

Stephen carefully lifted his baby girl out of the cot. At barely five pounds she was a tiny little thing, so fragile yet so, so beautiful.

Stephen kissed the sleeping Aífe’s forehead gently, savouring her sweet, newborn smell. The magic in this one was strong too, just like Stian –

Stian had been the one to bring Loki around the last time, perhaps this time it would be no different. He was going to put Aífe in Loki’s arm and Loki was going to open his eyes and everything… everything would go back to normal. Stephen was sure of it.

Stephen placed her slowly on his husband’s chest, her head fitting nicely into the crook of Loki’s neck. She stirred only momentarily, before settling down again, her little fingers curling around the neckline of Loki’s gown.

And Stephen waited.

He waited until his chest felt near bursting from not breathing; he waited until tears filled his eyes and blurred his vision

He could feel it coming, the delusion, the irrational thoughts

For Loki did not wake.

_They should have stopped after Stian._

Crazy thought after crazy thought raced through his mind with nothing to stop them, not even the tears cascading silently in a freefall down his face.

_He had been the one who wanted more children._

Stephen reached to caress Aífe’s head, the precious gift Loki had given him

_He should have seen this coming._

The Sorcerer Supreme who could peek into a million futures and who looked into his own future and saw the countless ways this could have gone terribly wrong from the very beginning, but insisted on it anyway because he was

_nothing but a selfish, selfish human_

“Loki.” The tears kept on falling and he let them. No one was watching anyway.

“Loki, wake up.”

_Please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me. 
> 
> Any feedback is loved and very welcome!


	22. A Hole in My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen searches for answers.

  _New Asgard, way back when_

 

“It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, Loki.”

Loki only stared at him, his expression a mix of horror and indignation, most likely at Stephen's daring suggestion that he should wear something, _anything_ less than fancy -

“Don’t you Asgardians exchange wedding bands, a token, something?

“No, we exchange vows," Loki explained slowly as one would to a child. "Sometimes we drink each other’s blood, but that’s more for those with extremist tastes –”

“What?” Stephen gaped.

“It is quite romantic actually. It ensures absolute monogamy and fidelity, for if one were to stray, both will be literally cooked from the inside, as their blood would boil in their veins so hot it could forge iron into steel.” Loki shrugged. “Or so they say. So far, no one has ever been tempted to test the theory.”

“Oh my _God_.”

“This is serious, Strange. This is not some Midgardian quickie marriage that can be easily annulled.”

Loki wrung his fingers nervously. “That vow you made in front of Thor is no joke.” A beat, “He _will_ have your head.”

Loki looked worried _for_ him, and Stephen knew not whether to feel flattered or insulted. But furious? Definitely.

Why Loki’s selective hearing seemed to tune out every ‘I love you’ that had ever come out of Stephen’s mouth had to be the biggest question in the universe.

“I will never be unfaithful to you.”

No matter. It was not as though Stephen would ever get tired of saying it anyway.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I looked into every future of us and there is none, _none_ , in which I am unfaithful to you.”

Loki stared deep into his eyes.

“Because I love you,” he said simply.

Loki grabbed the sides of Stephen’s face, and soon he was kissing him so hungrily and desperately, it left Stephen’s ears ringing –

“So Loki –” Stephen said breathlessly, in between kisses, “About the wedding bands –”

“Urgh, you’re still _harping_ on that.” Loki rolled his eyes and Stephen immediately regretted bringing it up, for it seemed to have cost him quite a number of kisses Loki was now refusing to give.

“If you recall, it was one of the very first things I told you about me.” Stephen grabbed Loki’s wrist as he made to move away, “That I am a traditionalist.”

“I haven’t worn one in over a thousand years,” Loki said softly.

Stephen narrowed his eyes at the thousand-mile gaze in Loki’s eyes.

Then as suddenly as he had drifted, Loki snapped out of it. “Stephen. I don’t need trinkets. I don’t need rings.”

Loki poured himself into Stephen’s lap, the touch of his hand as light as a feather on Stephen’s chest. “Not when you have pledged me this.”

Stephen gasped when his heart galloped and skipped a beat at the sudden influx of seidr; the rush of blood to his head was intoxicating and it would have drowned out Loki’s words, had they not also echoed in his mind.

_“The most binding vow of all.”_

Loki leaned down to kiss him softly. “Your heart.”

Stephen closed his eyes, savouring the sweet taste of Loki’s lips and he groaned, almost whining. “But I _want_ people to know you’re mine.”

“I don’t see how it will escape people’s notice. It will be the two of us at the altar, after all.”

Stephen stared at him silently.

“Are you pouting, Strange?”

“No.” _Yes._

Loki’s lips twisted as if undecided on the direction to take, then appearing to gather resolution, curled into a half-smile. “I forget how cute you can be sometimes.”

Stephen simply looked down on the floor. Not even when Loki slid out of his lap did he give his fiancé any notice.

Loki had risen to his full height and was now towering over him. “The things I do for you, Strange…”

Whatever was so interesting on the floor was not so interesting anymore. Stephen lifted his head, hoping to hide at least some of his hopeful eagerness from his eyes.

“Tell you what.” Loki let out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m not promising anything, but we’ll take a look around and see if – see if there’s something out there that suits my _very_ discerning taste.”

Stephen groaned. “That’s darn near impossible to find.”

“Take it or leave it.” Loki shrugged. “So I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait. Until I see something I like.”

“When will that be?” he grumbled.

“Oh, you will know. When it fits,” Loki said vaguely.

Stephen rolled his eyes. “Surely we can find something in the whole of Midgard that fits you. Or one of your artisan metallurgists can make one for you.”

It could just be his imagination, but the air in the room seemed to have suddenly gone chilly.

“You are not listening to me.” Loki’s voice had gone quiet. Dangerously so, too.

“Is this how it’s going to be? After we’re married?”

 _Shit_. He should not have let it get this far –

“Uh, no. My sweet. Darling.” Stephen hurriedly grabbed Loki’s hand and punctuated each term of endearment with a kiss on Loki’s knuckles individually. “My better half. Dearest heart. Love of my life.”

“No hurry. No hurry at all.” While Loki was still pliant, Stephen quickly wrapped his arms around Loki’s waist. “Take all the time you need.”

After a few long seconds of frosty silence, it began to thaw.

“Nice save. Congratulations,” Loki said, still a little haughtily.

Overwhelmed with relief, Stephen buried his face in Loki’s stomach.

“Please don’t leave me.”

Now thawed completely, Loki simply had to laugh, because it tickled, and because Stephen was being utterly ridiculous. He bent down to murmur into Stephen’s hair, “How can I? You would first have to return my heart.”

Now Loki was the one being ridiculous.

“Never.”

________________________________________________

_New Asgard, present time_

 

“Your Highness.” She nodded her head in greeting.

On any other day, he would have rebuked her for the unsavoury form of address but today, Stephen only looked at her silently, eyes and voice apathetic. “What do you want, Valkyrie?”

“Get up. I’m taking over.”

“No.”

“You have not left him for three days.”

Stephen shrugged.

“So that’s your plan? You gonna stare him to death today too?”

“What’s it to you what I do?”

The air in the room stirred before coming to a still, hostile and oppressive. Alarm bristled the hair on the back of Stephen’s neck –

“How _dare_ you.”

Stephen raised his head slowly.

Valkyrie’s face had gone pale, the hand resting on the hilt of her scabbard visibly shaking.

“He’s still alive, and you act like you’re _grieving_.”

“Maybe I am.” Stephen did not recognise his own voice, his throat constricted and raw with suppressed emotions.

“Oh you haven’t _seen_ grieving, Fancy Man.” She seemed to be gripping Dragonfang tighter, her knuckles blanched so white against the bronze of her skin. “Take it from someone as old as I.”

He wished the Valkyrie would leave them alone. He wished to share Loki with no one.

“You’re drunk.” He shook his head in disgust.

“Not drunk enough for this,” she muttered. But it had been her intention to barge in and rail into him and she was going to do just that, painfully sober or not.

“Out of the two of us, Sorcerer, you’re the one in the position to do something. Or is all the fancy costume just for show?”

Feeling the dust stinging his eyes once more, Stephen palmed his face. He was so incredibly tired.

“Just because you kiss him and he doesn’t wake up? _Please_. This isn’t one of your stupid Midgardian fairy tales. And Loki ain’t a princess.”

“Stop. Please.”

“He’s still breathing, isn’t he?” She ranted furiously. “If you’re going to act like he’s already dead then why did you save him in the first place?”

He breathed in sharply.

And suddenly the Valkyrie was in his face, so close her black tresses were touching the hands he was gripping around his armrest.

“Snap the fuck out of it.” She enunciated each acidic word with such ferocity Stephen could see why the Valkyrie were such a force on the battlefield; they were ferocious off it too.

“Now if it please Your Highness,” she said, her voice controlled but still tight, “You’re in my seat.”

Stephen stared into her deep brown eyes, but the staring match did not last long for he knew it was lost, the moment he saw Valkyrie walk into the room.

And Valkyrie knew it too. She took a few steps back expectantly.

Stephen rose from his chair, his heart heavy yet strangely light at the same time.

He slowly circled an arm round the back of Loki’s shoulders and carefully lifted, holding Loki’s lolling head tightly to his chest as he breathed in the scent of his husband’s hair deeply.

He fiercely kissed Loki’s cold forehead long and deep before laying him gently down again. “I’ll be back, Loki.”

He lingered for a few seconds in the mad hope that Loki would stir. When Loki did not, his heart did not sink but Stephen was not surprised in the least. There was no way it could sink any lower to begin with.

Just before his hand turned the handle to the door, he turned his head a smidge. “Thank you, Valkyrie.”

“Didn’t do it for you.” She snapped angrily. A second later, she repeated, “Didn’t do it for you.” Softer, more subdued this time. The look in her eyes as she stared sadly at the motionless form in front of her was one he had seen before. Valkyrie had been more than just a shield, a protector – she had been a friend, ever present at Loki’s side through his long period of illness in the first stages of his pregnancy.

It was a given she would be by his side this time around too.

“I know,” Stephen concurred readily, and meant it. “Thank you.”

“Just fix this.” Her jaw was tight. “I don’t care what you have to do. Just – do it.”

_______________________________________

“I’m sorry, Stephen.” Wong could not have sounded more apologetic. “It is old Asgardian magic, largely obsolete in the texts and in practice. The only ones who could have given us any answer are probably Loki himself..”

At Wong’s hesitation, Stephen finished his train of thought for him. “And the Sorcerer who cast it. Who is currently inconveniently dead.”

Wong looked glum. “I will keep searching of course, but I have to tell you, it’s looking bleak at the moment.”

He studied his friend’s dejected profile. But the fact that Stephen was actually making the effort to talk to him meant he was trying to pull himself together, and Wong knew it was more than just his duty to help strengthen the Sorcerer Supreme’s resolve.

“On the very, very, _very_ bright side, the magic seems to spare Loki’s life force,” he emphasised. “As long as he is alive, there is still hope, Stephen.”

The smile Stephen gave him was small and wan.

“How are you holding up?” Wong asked lightly, “With the kids?”

“I’m getting a lot of help, Wong,” Stephen said gently. “One of the perks of marrying into the royal family.” Stephen disguised his grimace as something that was supposed to look like a reassuring smile.

Wong stared at him, expressionless. “I can see right through you.”

Stephen sighed, his words heavy and laced with guilt. “I’m sorry, Wong. I know I haven’t been around lately.”

“You think I’m concerned about that?” Wong scoffed. “The Sanctums have never fallen ever since you became Sorcerer Supreme. They are hardly going to do that just because you have a family emergency to take care of. Not with me here.”

Stephen smiled gratefully. This time Wong knew it was genuine as the smile reached his eyes. “You’re a true friend, Wong.”

“Yes, yes.” Wong waved him off, he had heard it before after all – “I’m more interested in what you’re planning to do now. You’re not suicidal, are you?”

“What? _No!”_ Stephen recoiled in disgust.

Wong only lifted his eyebrows. “You going to conjure the dead sorcerer’s spirit? Or invoke the demon he made the deal with to bargain a better deal?”

Stephen looked at him as if he had gone mad. “Are you serious?”

“Just checking.” Wong shrugged. “Well what then? I assume you have a plan?”

“Vaguely.” Stephen hesitated. “I have to pay someone a visit.”

“Will it be dangerous?” Wong perked up. It had been a while since he last fought anything.

“No, it will be quite...domestic, I believe.” Stephen cocked his head, smirking. There was the glimmer of the old Stephen Wong was more used to – “Sorry to disappoint.”

He sighed, “Have fun then.”

“Keep me posted.”

“As you command, Sorcerer Supreme.”

“And Wong,” he heard Stephen call just as he was about to end the international tele-portal call. “Thank you. For everything.”

“You’re suicidal,” Wong said flatly.

“I’m not!”

“That’s exactly the thing a suicidal person would say. I watch enough TV to know a thank you like that?” He shook his head, “Never ends well –”

“Oh, for the love of – Goodbye, Wong!”

“And now he’s saying goodb –”

Stephen’s portal flickered out, leaving Wong once again alone with his thoughts in the deep cavernous comfort of his library.

He inhaled deeply before turning his attention once more onto the tome he was perusing but his mind had wandered off too far to concentrate, for their predicament went beyond Stephen’s little family.

If Stephen could not bring Loki back…there was no telling if Wong himself could bring Stephen back from the brink, and that thought alone was sending Wong’s anxiety levels into overdrive.

The Sanctum may hold for now, but would it still hold if the Sorcerer Supreme could not fight his way out of this, should the outcome be as dire as how things were looking right now?

___________________________________________________

The woman collected the eggs from her coop as was her routine every morning if there be eggs to be collected, arranging them methodically in her basket according to size and shine of the outer shell as was her habit.

It was a simple life now that she led. And with it came a peace that she had not thought she would get to experience again. Her sleep may occasionally be fitful, but the dreams were becoming rarer and farther apart now, and never quite as vivid as they once were.

She turned and froze.

Her basket of eggs would have been ruined had it not been saved by an invisible safety net as her hands slipped. A twist of his hand, and it landed unharmed and unbroken by her feet.

“Your Highness.” Numbly she dropped into a hasty curtsy.

Stephen did not speak.

Feeling the blood drain from her face, she braved a look at her sudden visitor, and her face paled further. When she finally spoke, her voice was stricken with grief.

“It’s happened, hasn’t it.”

Stephen’s eyes hardened at the way she had phrased her question into a statement.

“Did you know this was going to happen?” As if sensing the fury simmering underneath his very skin, The Cloak gently rubbed its lapels against the sides of his neck to placate him, but Stephen was too far gone. The King may have pardoned her at Loki’s behest and sent her into exile to live in solitary confinement until the end of her days, but if she had a part to play in this…

Stephen fought to remain calm. “Tell me everything.”

_____________________________________________

“W-Would you like some tea, Your Highness?” Yrsa stuttered, wringing her hands into her apron, standing helplessly a few feet away from where Stephen was seated in her small living room.

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped. “And I am not here for tea.”

The chair that had been leaning against the wall slid noisily across the floor and bumped into the back of her knees.

“Sit.”

She obeyed.

“Have you heard? Of what has happened to Prince Loki?”

She shook her head slowly. Living on the outskirt of New Asgard seldom brought news beyond the little village closest to her cottage, let alone the Royal Palace.

She had lost the privilege long ago. “How fares Prince Loki?”

“Not very well. He is unconscious and has been unconscious for the past three days ever since the delivery of our daughter, Princess Aífe.”

She _had_ heard about the birth of the royal princess, but nothing about the Prince in particular; the piece of news horrified her.

“A post-partum complication, My Lord?” She inquired helplessly, perhaps this was not about _that_ after all –

“You tell me.”

“And Prince Stian, he is alright? You have not done...anything to him?”

Stephen’s eyes turned dark. “I insist you explain to me right now what you were implying with such a question.”

Her heart sank. So he _was_ here because of…that.

There was nowhere she could run now. She was not sure if she even wanted to, even if she could.

“Tell me.” The fury was radiating off him in waves, shifting the still air in her small cottage in drafts of raw power.

“I was there.” She closed her eyes at the imagery. “I heard the words.”

“Wha – who?” Stephen took a breath, he needed to calm down. “The words…to the –? ”

“ _Curse_ , yes.” She swallowed hard.

“They were just lying there, near death.” She remembered the smell, of blood and decay, the heaviness of the air weighed down by the darkest magic she had ever encountered, she remembered the _heat_ –

“With his dying breath, Father uttered words, words so dark they could not have been anything but a…curse.”

“Do you still remember them?”

“Oh yes.” Her eyelashes were wet. “They still haunt me from time to time.”

“What are they?”

“I can’t say them.” She shook her head. “I can’t.”

Stephen was silent. He knew the fear was real, as real as the blood debt that hung over both their heads.

She was afraid to say the words for she feared she would end up cursing him too.

A pen and paper materialised in front of her. “Write them down.”

Her eyes pleaded with him, _No_ –

“It’s fine. It’s enchanted.” Stephen held the pen out. “Now write.”

Her hand shook, but when she had finally done writing, her hand was steady as she silently handed him the piece of paper.

Stephen’s eyes darkened to almost black as he read and reread the words, his heart filled with dread.

“The _wolf_ …”

“Takes what is taken, returns when it is returned.”

“What does that mean?” The paper began to crumple in his fist, “How do I break it?”

“I…don’t know.”

“You do,” Stephen said accusingly. “I can see it in your eyes.”

He demanded, “Tell me.”

“I already did.” Tears slowly rolled down her face.

_Takes what is taken_

_returns when it is returned_

Stephen’s blood drained from his face as the true meaning of her words barrelled into him like a sledgehammer.

“So the only way to bring Loki back…” A sick whisper, “..is to return what Loki has taken?”

Yrsa only stared at him with eyes clouded with pain, as though her silence was enough an answer.

Stephen remembered her very odd question earlier in their conversation. A sickening sensation churned in his gut, and he felt almost physically ill. “Stian…”

“An eye for an eye.” His head spun wildly. “A son for a…son.”

Stephen needed to move, he needed to get out of here, he would pass out if he stayed here any longer, as light-headed as he was – he felt as if he was suffocating.

He jumped to his feet and lurched unsteadily for the door.

“Doctor, please!”

“I need to go. I must return.” Return to his husband, his children –

He stopped short, his hand hovering over the knob. He swallowed against a wave of nausea.

“Do you have children of your own, Yrsa?” He only just realised that he had never asked.

Yrsa joined him at the door. Together they stared at the small framed photo on the door.

“When Huldar died, I had only just conceived. We were newly-married, you see.” She smiled wistfully. Huldar looked so handsome on their wedding day. But her smile faltered soon enough.

“Driven mad by grief, my father-in-law offered the child in my womb in exchange for power and knowledge of dark sorcery.” Her voice was hollow, her eyes dark with grief. “The bargain was struck, and the next morning, I woke up bleeding…and empty.”

“ ‘For the right price, anything can be learnt.’ ” She echoed the chilling words. “Was what he said.”

Stephen was struck by a sudden loss for words.

“I am sorry,” he managed finally.

“No, I am sorry.” She shook her head regrettably. “For all the pain I have caused you. What I did, what my father-in-law did…was unforgiveable.”

“Your loss is no less great. Your baby, your husband…”

“Was a soldier,” she said softly. “I knew the risks, Doctor. I married him anyway.”

“I beg your pardon, Your Highness, for I know this is too forward of me, but would you –” her breath halted. “Would you give all my love to Prince Stian? Please.” She begged. “Tell him I miss him.”

Stephen turned his head slowly to look at her. “You still think about him?”

The tears shone bright in her eyes. “Every day.”

“Goodbye, Yrsa.”

“Goodbye, Doctor.”

_______________________________________

“Thor?”

There was no mistaking the hulking figure sitting silently in the darkness of his living room.

“Shh. He’s just gone to sleep.”

“Stian?” Stephen squinted, and caught a glimpse of his son’s face, pale as moonlight. He was curled around his Uncle’s lap like a slinky polecat.

“He insisted on waiting up for you. Refused to go to sleep.” Thor ran his fingers through Stian’s hair. “I checked on Aífe earlier and the nursery says she’s been quiet.”

“That’s good,” Stephen replied in relief.

Thor’s eyes shone bright and blue in the dark. “You look exhausted.”

“It’s been a long day.” Stephen offered nothing further. He sank heavily into the armchair opposite his brother-in-law.

Thor carefully lifted his nephew and relinquished him into Stephen’s waiting arms. “I will leave you now but please, get some rest.”

“Thank you, Thor.” Stephen hoped his words of gratitude encompassed everything.

_Thank you for looking after the children._

_Thank you for not asking questions. Thank you for just being there._

Thor’s hand on his shoulder was surprisingly gentle, unlike his usual heavy-handed favourite gesture of affection. “I have faith in you, Stephen.”

Stephen only nodded. He pressed the side of his face against Stian’s head, savouring the sensation of glossy strands of hair tickling his cheek.

The door closed quietly behind Thor.

Stephen walked over to the windows. He looked out, and up. The stars were exceptionally bright tonight.

What was the last thing Loki saw when he looked out the window that night before the wolf devoured him?

The moon looked harmless now.

He could not look at it for too long.

Instead of taking Stian to his room, Stephen took his son to the master bedroom and placed him gently on the bed he shared with Loki.

He climbed in next to his little boy and closed his eyes. He was thankful that the sheets had not been changed for he could not bear burying his face in Loki’s pillow in search for his scent only to find it replaced by the smell of linen, as crisp and fresh as it may be.

He hugged his son tighter to him.

_Stian, for Loki._

“Daddy?” Stian murmured sleepily.

“Stian?” he croaked. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

_Loki, for Stian._

Stian’s small hands searched his face.

“Daddy, please don’t cry.”

_How? How do I stop?_

“I’m not, buddy.” He tried to breathe through the sudden tightening of his chest. “Something in my eyes, that’s all.”

Stephen thumbed the roundness of his snow-white cheek. “You go back to sleep now. I’ll watch over you.”

Stian wrapped his little arms around his waist. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, Stian. So, so much,” he almost wept.

_How now, Loki?_

_What do I do?_

Stian was fast asleep once more, truly an angel if Stephen ever saw one on this earth –

_How could I choose?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr Strange looks dreamy in a suit. Random, I know. (But he does!)
> 
> Thank you kindly for reading, liking and commenting. Warms my heart, truly~


	23. Almost Here

_New Asgard, way back when_

 

“Oh wait! Sorry, that’s what Sakaarian brides wear…hold on.” Loki concentrated, searching his memory. And the plunging neckline disappeared, the material now less flowy and less chiffon-y. But still gold dominated the look, and a sash made entirely of gemstones hung heavy around his waist, sagging to his hips.

“That’s better,” Loki said in satisfaction, surveying his work with a kind of pride.

 _Is it?_ Stephen crinkled his nose. “How did you know what Sakaarian wedding attire looks like anyway? I thought you were only stranded there for like, a couple of weeks.”

“En Dwi had me outfitted once.” Loki studied Stephen’s reflection. He snapped his fingers, and the gaudy sash disappeared, replaced by a simple belt made out of what looked like intertwined gold silk threads.

“And something a bit more avant-garde…” Loki swished his hand again, and a buckle materialised in the form of a gold cast resin of Min, the Egyptian God of Fertility.

Complete with an erect penis and a flail.

_No…_

Stephen could not decide which train of thought to follow first, so he chose the lesser of two evils. “En Dwi?”

“I told you about him,” Loki said distractedly, a slight frown on his face. “He’s the Grandmaster.”

“He outfitted you as a bride?” _Wait a minute._ “This Grandmaster guy asked you to _marry_ him?”

“The Grandmaster doesn’t ask, Strange. He _takes_.”

Stephen was still staring at him, aghast.

Loki rolled his eyes. “It was just for role-play, Stephen.”

_Just??_

“Dare I ask more?”

“Not if you value your testicles.” Loki muttered dangerously.

Whenever Loki started to threaten the integrity and patency of precious things, Stephen found it wise to hold his tongue. But he committed it to memory and to the ever-growing list of ‘Things-to-Talk-to-Loki-About-Later/In-More-Peaceful-Times’.

“So? What do you think?”

Stephen said the first thing that came to his mind. “I look like that Deluxe Supreme Leader guy.” At Loki’s confused look, “You know, Snoke? From Star Wars The Last Jedi?”

“I’ve never heard of such a War, or a warrior of such name. Must have been a different galaxy.”

The distaste on Stephen’s face must be obvious, for Loki then looked instantly crestfallen. “You don’t like it?”

“I…uhm.” In moments requiring a modicum of sensitivity, Stephen always found himself painfully lacking. He looked at the grotesque buckle with its very long, very pointy, and very well-endowed phallus.

He tried appealing to Loki’s sense of self-preservation. “Will this not poke you when we do that obligatory you-may-now-kiss-your-husband bit at the end?”

“You’re right.” Loki sighed. “Okay. Sakaarian-style wedding is out.”

_Thank God for small mercies._

“So, let’s do…Asgardian next –”

Loki’s hand did the swishy thing again, and soon the garish robes melted into a slim-silhouetted ceremonial armour much in the likes of Loki’s formal dresswear, but instead of the usual black and green, Stephen was wearing his own colours; it was of a pale, almost iridescent sky blue that shimmered when turned any which way like moonstone, with the shine of mother-of-pearl. His cape was a deep, burgundy red, much like the Cloak, but trimmed with interlacing gold and silver motifs of the royal insignia.

“Beautiful,” Loki murmured.

Stephen had to agree. “I look…okay.” He sounded surprised.

“You look like a prince.”

“I…kinda do.”

“A prince after my own heart.” Loki could not take his eyes away. And yet…

“What’s the matter, Stephen? You don’t like this one too?” His keen sense of observation did not miss the look of uncertainty in his betrothed’s eyes. “We can make it less…fancy if you like.”

“No, I just…” Stephen inhaled. “It’s not exactly how I’ve always pictured my wedding, you know?”

“No, not really…” Loki studied the mildly helpless look on Stephen’s face. Then he understood. He may have not been born Asgardian, but he was raised as one. But Stephen…Stephen was of Midgard.

“We need to decide, Strange. I can’t wear Asgardian and you something else, that would look horrible and incredibly unphotogenic.”

“Why not have two receptions?” Stephen suggested lightly. “One here, and a smaller one in New York, with just our family and friends?”

Loki groaned. “Have pity on me, Strange. The stress alone will kill me.”

Stephen winced in sympathy. Yeah, he would not want the added stress either.

“Is that what you want?” Loki asked softly. “A small, intimate ceremony?”

Loki tried to recall what Tony Stark had worn during his wedding. The bridegrooms on Midgard would wear something like…

“Is this more to your liking?” Loki asked gently.

Stephen studied his new reflection in the mirror. His throat had suddenly gone dry.

A slow smile began to break across his face. He squared his jaw and turned to gaze at his fiancé, only to find that Loki had been staring at him all along.

“How do I look?” Stephen asked.

To his amusement, Loki visibly struggled to regain his composure. It could just be his imagination, but Loki’s eyes had become misty all of a sudden.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” he teased.

Loki could not speak. He waved a hand and plucked an object out of thin air. He stepped in closer and pinned it to the lapel of Stephen’s tuxedo jacket. His hands were shaking slightly.

Stephen frowned.

“Loki?”

_“Perfect.”_

So tongue-tied was he, Loki could only Mindspeak.

It was small, only the size of his thumb, but the corsage was one of the most exquisite things he had ever seen.

Made entirely out of green emeralds that sparkled every time the light hit, it was in the form of a Valerian flower, its buds interweaved with floral bracts made of pure white and yellow gold.

Stephen’s heart skipped a beat, not just from the influx of emotions, but from the _magic_.

He palmed his own chest over the bejewelled masterpiece and closed his eyes.

“Stephen?”

Images rushed through his head.

_A beautiful blonde woman dressed in full Asgardian regalia stood next to what looked like a golden throne, upon which sits a familiar figure…Odin?_

_The same woman, now with a younger-looking Loki in a sunroom of some sort, watching the sky together where two suns shone bright side-by-side like twin supernovas_

_A young girl dressed in a long, white gown, her long blond tresses streaming behind her as she ran through a field of tansy flowers abutting a river, its waters calm and unexpectedly aquamarine like the ocean_

The last image that stayed in his mind’s eye was of Loki’s palm holding the pin as the woman closed her own palm over it.

“This belonged to your mother.” Stephen opened his eyes. “She gave it to you.”

Loki’s face instantly drained of colour.

“What a beautiful place,” Stephen’s voice trailed as he spoke, as if in a trance, “Is that Vanaheim?”

Loki had taken a step back. “How did you know?” he whispered.

“Thor told me. That’s where she was from.”

“You can read objects.”

“Not all the time. Sometimes.” Stephen held out a hand. “Psychometry is notoriously difficult if the object does not wish to be read.”

Loki’s hand was still shaking. Stephen covered it with his palm, much like Frigga had done in his vision.

“She’s very beautiful.”

“Yes, she was.” A tear trailed silently down Loki’s cheek.

“I guess I just wanted a part of her to be with us on the day.” Loki laughed softly, and would have raised a hand to his cheek had Stephen not stopped him and kissed the tear away. “How silly of me.”

“It’s not silly, Loki.” Stephen pulled him into a tight embrace. _“Of course_ she has to be there.”

Loki sniffed into his suit jacket for a few more seconds, before pushing him away gently. “I’m ruining your tuxedo.”

He cleared his throat. “So, Doctor. What shall it be? An ascot tie?” He twirled Stephen around to face the full-length mirror of their bedroom once more.

“A silk cravat? I think tiffany blue would bring out your eyes…”

“We are in the 21st century, Loki.”

Loki rolled his eyes. They were still a little red but at least he was not crying anymore.  “A bow-tie then. How bo –”

He waved a hand; Stephen prepared himself for the worst.

“- ring.” Loki inhaled sharply. “Oh _my.”_

Stephen lifted his eyebrows. _Yep. Classic._

_Aaalways the way to go._

“Oh, Doctor.” Loki pursed his lips, his eyes shining as he raked them up and down Stephen’s figure in the mirror. Loki stamped his seal of approval. _“Breathtaking.”_

“So, Loki.” Stephen coolly adjusted his slightly crooked bow-tie. “Still open to the Vegas idea?”

And suddenly Loki was all over him, kissing him and pawing the suit jacket off with such ferocity Stephen feared it ripped in his sudden mania of passion. “Loki…”

_“Loki..”_

_“I love you.”_

They tumbled into bed, tuxedo jacket and pants discarded on the floor

_“I love you more.”_

Bow tie and all

_“No, **I** love you. I said it first –”_

_“No, **I** said it first actually - okay, Loki, you win.”_

A happy sigh, of content and victory alike

_“I always do.”_

________________________________________

_New Asgard, present time._

 

It was a bright, beautiful day. The sun was gentle as it bathed their bedroom in the early light of the morning; Stephen could feel its soothing warmth against his face, red against his closed eyelids.

Without opening his eyes, he turned sideways to grope for his husband, his arm finding its way around Loki’s waist.

“Good morning, Loki,” he murmured.

He opened his eyes slowly. The shy rays of the sun played off the sharp angles of Loki’s jawline and cheekbone.

Stephen rolled onto his belly and pushed himself up on his elbows. He slid a finger to tug the neckline of Loki’s tunic to the side, exposing his clavicle.

“Any more wasted and you’re back to skin and bones…” he muttered under his breath.

Next, as per his routine for the past two weeks, he moved onto the feeding catheter protruding directly from above Loki’s jutting collarbone, critically assessing it for patency – many a night Stephen himself had dislodged it in his sleep, when he was still under the delusion that if he held Loki tight enough, kept him warm enough…

Satisfied that the central venous catheter was still in place with no visible signs of infection, the dressing dry and intact, Stephen smiled and dropped a light kiss on Loki’s slightly ajar lips. “I’ll get you your breakfast now.”

Stephen washed his hands thoroughly in the sink. He snapped on his sterile gloves. He removed the empty TPN bag that had fed Loki throughout the night and exchanged it for a new one, making note to find out if the hospitals in Norway could supply him with nutrition bags with higher calorie content; Loki’s erratic, unpredictable metabolism was using up energy like a sponge, despite not doing much and lying around all day. He was losing weight he could not afford to lose in the first place.

Maybe Bruce could cook up something more protein-dense, with some added extras. “Would you prefer strawberry? Banana?”

Stephen stared at Loki’s face, slack and still.

“I’m a vanilla guy myself,” he finally said with a sigh. He ran his hands through Loki’s hair, combing through any tangles that had developed in the night and spreading it out, the locks stark black against the pristine white of the pillow.

“I’m away for the day but I should be back later in the evening.” Stephen patted the hand he only realised he was holding in his lap. Loki’s fingernails were getting long and needing trimming. “Don’t miss me too much, Loki.”

Stephen closed his eyes to picture just the response. A snarky smile. A delicate sniff.

 _As if I would ever_ , Loki would probably say.

Yeah, he thought. Loki would definitely say that.

A soft mewl caught his attention.

“Hey you...” Her eyes and face scrunched up in the sunlight as Stephen lifted Aífe out of the shadowy darkness of the cot and into the brightness of the morning. “You up already, darling?”

“You want some breakfast too, my little firecracker?” Cradling her in one arm, Stephen caressed her sun-kissed red hair. Aífe gurgled away happily, her eyes still unfocused, yet no less adorable as they squinted up at him, blinking blearily.

Stephen smiled. “Yeah? Okay. Let’s sort you out, hmm?”

______________________________________________

His fellow Masters Minoru and Arslan had finally managed to neuter the threat in Hong Kong and were now requesting his presence to oversee the rituals to fortify the Hong Kong Sanctum and reinforce the wards in the eastern and northern hemispheres, as he had done a few months ago in London.

It would be the first time he would leave Asgard ever since Aífe’s birth, save for the occasional visits to the New York Sanctum to check on how Wong was doing. He had half a mind to temporarily move Loki back to the Healing Hall for the duration he would be away, but decided against it.

Loki should remain here, close to their children where he belonged.

Thor had been surprisingly calm when Stephen first voiced his intention to move Loki out of the Healing Hall and back into their royal apartments.

“To him, Loki is just sleeping.” Valkyrie had said, the look in her eyes as grave as her voice. “Like Odinsleep.”

“Odinsleep?”

“The Allfather used to go in a deep sleep from time to time to replenish his Odinforce. Acts like a battery charger but on a cosmic scale if you know what I mean?” She crinkled her nose when she found the right words to describe it at last – “Magical hibernation, if you like.”

“How long would it last?”

“Oh, it varied. Days, weeks, months.” She said in mild distaste. “Depends on how depleted the Allfather was at any given time.”

“Anyway. I guess that’s Thor’s way of dealing with it.” She shrugged coolly.

Valkyrie may have been the most vocal among the Asgardians in their plight to look for a cure initially, but the moment Stephen shared what he had learnt from Yrsa, of the price that they would have to pay to bring Loki back…

The light still had yet to return to her eyes. The ever-ready stance to her usually straight-backed shoulders was all but gone, a defeated slump taking its place.

Her gaze as she watched Stian play quietly with his building blocks in the middle of the living room was a despairing and despondent one; before long she had him on her lap, holding Stian to her bosom somewhat possessively.

“How long will you be gone?” Stian ignored her playing with his hair. He seemed oblivious to his father and the Valkyrie, concentrating instead on building something that looked like a dinosaur-mermaid hybrid…with wings.

“Shouldn’t take more than a day.” Stephen fiddled with his sling ring, watching his son intently. He was not a child psychologist, but Stian seemed unusually quiet and he could not help but worry.

“You sure you don’t mind looking after them?” Stephen asked uncertainly. “I can easily get someone from the nursery..”

She shook her head. “With Loki here, the Little Prince wouldn’t want to go anywhere anyway. Might as well stay in.”

Stephen clenched his teeth at her words.

_Loki’s not here._

“Someone from the Healing Hall will come over sometime later in the afternoon to take Loki’s daily bloods.”

_He’s almost here._

“Please tell them to be careful with where they take the sample from, the left arm is usually less tricky.” Many a times Stephen had come home to see bruises on Loki’s right arm from multiple failed attempts at venesection.

_Only almost here._

“Wouldn’t want to hurt him anymore than is necessary.”

Valkyrie nodded wordlessly, fingers still sifting through Stian’s hair, looking a million miles away.

“I have some work to take care of today, so can I count on you to keep your Pappa company?”

Stian nodded, his longish hair falling into his eyes.

“Will you take good care of your sister for me?”

“Of course, Daddy.”

“Attaboy.”

_________________________________

When Stephen finally returned, it was late enough in the evening that all that remained of dusk was a single line of orange stretching across the horizon.

“Oh good. You’re back.” The Valkyrie looked somewhat spooked.

“What is it, Valkyrie?”

Anything that could unnerve the Captain of the Kingsguard was something Stephen should definitely be wary of – “Did something happen?” A surge of cautious hope, “Is it Loki?”

She shook her head. “Little Prince has been saying some weird stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

Valkyrie shrugged helplessly. “Explaining gets things lost in translation. You should see for yourself.”

“Aífe?”

“Popped into the nursery just now and she was sleeping. Last feed around two hours ago, she should be up pretty soon.”

Stephen distractedly handed her the pack of artisan beer he had bought her from New York. “Thanks, Valkyrie.”

____________________________________

“You should get my sister from the nursery, Daddy.” Stian was hunched over his book. He had not looked up once since his father returned. “It’s getting late.”

“Aífe is still very small, Stian,” Stephen said gently. He had a feeling Stian and Aífe were going to be inseparable one day. “Someone needs to help us look after her.”

“Aífe likes sleeping next to Pappa.”

“How can you tell?”

Stian stared at his father, hazel eyes wide with wonder. ‘Can’t you?’ they seemed to ask silently.

“She does,” he said simply, and went back to colouring his book. Or doodling, more like –

Stephen peered over his shoulder. “That’s a nice-looking…dog?”

“It’s a horse, Daddy.”

“Oh. Right.” There was a white-faced figure with scraggly black hair spoking out from his head. It reminded him of Medusa. “And who is that standing next to it? Is that Pappa?”

“That’s my brother,” Stian replied calmly.

Stephen’s forehead furrowed.

Could Stian perhaps be talking about a brother…from the future? Or from an alternate reality? “Your…brother?”

“I wanted a big brother, just like Pappa has Uncle Thor.”

Stian rolled his fingers through the scattered pile of colour pencils. “So I asked Pappa the day before the wolf came if he could give me one.”

He chose green for the mane of his horse. For such a novel choice of colour, Stian was not very enthusiastic about it, his little face suddenly glum. “He said I’ve already got one.”

Stephen was uncertain about how to feel with regard to the direction this bizarre conversation was going.

“Did Pappa ever tell you his name?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.” Stian said simply.

Stephen waited with bated breath. Something was coming.

“He liked horses too, Pappa said.” Stian’s eyes disappeared behind his sunny smile. “When I get to see him for real one day, I’ll ask him if we can ride together.”

A tingling sensation accompanied the chills that had suddenly run down his spine. “You can see him?”

“No, silly Daddy!” Stian laughed cheerfully. “Connla is in heaven.”

Stephen froze.

_Connla._

He knew that name.

In legend and in truth.

It was the name of Loki’s slain son from a previous life.

“Connla…” he echoed and instantly a shiver raised the hair on the back of his neck. He recognised what this sinking sensation in his stomach was – it was the sickening feeling that he was onto something, the sudden stroke of epiphany

The Connla of legend, slaughtered by his own father’s hand.

Loki’s hand.

He bolted out of the seat so fast, The Cloak swished over Stian’s face, eliciting a yelp from his son at the sudden darkening of his world. “Stian, stay here –”

Without switching on the lights, Stephen lurched into the master bedroom where Loki lay sleeping. The only light came from the moon as it shone through the parted curtains.

Stephen rummaged through the dresser, he knew he had put it here, had put it back in Loki’s trinket box. He slammed the drawers shut one after the other – he knew he was making too much noise, but Loki was still sleeping, he wouldn’t mind, he had to find it, he _must_ find it

And there it was.

Stephen sank to his knees right then and there on the carpet in the crook between the dresser and the bed.

With trembling hands he clasped both hands over the sling ring, palming it against his chest like a prayer.

Stephen concentrated, feeling his magic swirl furiously in his core and flow into his fingers.

He gasped as a sudden jolt of foreign magic coursed through his body, magic so ancient it had no name, having lost it to the ebbing flow of human history, recalling visions upon visions that he cried out and would have collapsed backward had the bed not been there.

He breathed in harshly as he sorted through the visions one by one as they fleeted through his mind’s eyes at the speed of light.

There, it’s coming, they are coming –

He was in a room, large but freezing cold, its walls made of great slabs of rock with tapestries hanging off them in disarray about a four-poster bed made of heavy oak, its rafters low, weighed down by yards upon yards of valance silk.

A large blaze roared in a hearth at the centre of the room. The icy gale that blew outside drowned out the sounds of the spitting, crackling fire.

Two figures lay unclothed on the bed, tangled in sheets; they must be lovers from the way they held each other. Stephen could not see their faces; they were mere blurs of pale and paler, white against the man’s roguish black hair and the woman’s long tresses of red, fiery hair.

The man slipped a gold ring onto the woman’s finger, and she sighed in blissful happiness.

The vision changed, and the woman now stood on the roof of what appeared to be a stone castle overlooking the sea; she was heavy with child, the roundness of her belly obvious against the ocean wind blowing it against her dress. Her face had lost all serenity from before, it was now tight, as tight as the hand gripping one side of her belly, her gold ring glinting in the sun.

Her eyes searched the sea for something Stephen could not see. But he could sense her emotions – she had been slighted, and she was angry. Very angry.

A young man, tall and strapping, with hawk-like eyes and long, scraggly black hair, stood in front of a throne. He knelt before a different woman, dressed in full battle regalia befitting a Warrior Queen – Scáthach? – and at her side, her countenance morose and severely solemn, his mother. The red-haired woman from before.

Aífe now stood by the shore, icy water from the loch lapping at her gown as Connla made to sail solo, her eyes grave. Connla kissed the back of her hand and Aífe slipped her ring onto his thumb.

_Go forth. Seek him. Kill him or be killed._

_Yes, Good Mother._

The hilt of a sword slammed into his chest

Connla knocked down onto his back

_Tell me your name, boy_

The Warrior hovered over him, eyes as green as the ocean, face as pale as marble. The tip of the sword wavered.

_Tell me your name!_

The boy answered. Unafraid and resolute.

_By thy hand, I shall meet my death_

A scream ripped out of Stephen’s throat as a sudden, blinding pain stabbed his chest like a hot poker. He was about to collapse from the agony, but the excruciating pain lasted only a fraction of a second, as the vision changed again

A hand lay limp on the ground, bloodied and broken. It unfurled slowly, and the ring shone in the sunlight, despite the blood that drenched it.

_My son._

Black spots danced across his eyes. Connla watched as his father sank to the ground. Blood trickled from his lips as Loki gathered him to his chest.

_My son._

“Daddy?” He could dimly hear a voice calling him, whoever it was he sounded terrified –

_Stian. His son._

“No closer, Stian.” He was mumbling, caught deep in a trance. He breathed out shakily, “Not yet.”

_Stian must have heard him scream._

He gasped as another influx of visions assaulted him, from another time, a different time –

The Ancient One laughed gaily at something Loki had said. Stephen recognised her private study in Kamar-Taj despite the relatively sparse walls, she must have only begun collecting her thankas.

Loki presented her with the ring.

It looked much different now, more delicate and carved with runes and a motif of two hands clasping a heart

_Right hand, heart facing outward, means you’re single and unattached, inward means your heart is–_

_Oh I know the meaning, Loki. I’m Celtic, remember?_

_She slipped it onto the ring finger of her left hand. It fit perfectly. She wiggled it. The heart was pointing inward._

_Loki beamed._

_Forever? He asked._

_Always. She answered._

Stephen gasped as the visions left him as suddenly as they had come. Small hands were pawing the sides of his face desperately.

“Daddy!” Stian was sobbing hysterically. “Daddy, please, come back!”

“I’m here, son, I’m here.” Cold sweat beaded his forehead. His heart was galloping like a mad horse.

Stian threw his arms around his father’s neck and continued to sob uncontrollably. Stephen hugged him fiercely.

“I’m not leaving. I won’t leave you.” He kissed Stian’s cheeks, one after the other. “I’ll never leave you.”

It took Stephen a good few minutes to calm his little boy down, but in the end, Stian’s cries dwindled to occasional wet hiccups. “You alright now, buddy?”

“I’m –” Stian hiccupped. “I’m okay now, Daddy.”

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

“Are you going to sleep a lot like Pappa too?” Stian’s hands fisted the front of his tunic.

“No, Stian.” Stephen gave him a watery smile. “As long as Pappa’s still sleeping, I’ll never go to sleep. I’ll never leave you alone.”

“Y-you promise?” Stian’s hazel eyes were welling again.

“I promise.” Stephen offered his pinkie. Stian hooked his little one with his father’s. “Now why don’t we go and see if we can wake Pappa up?”

Stian’s eyes lit up and he scrambled off Stephen’s lap.

Stephen climbed to his feet. His head felt heavy, as heavy as his limbs. That was the most intense psychometric experience he had ever had, and the phantom pain in his chest throbbed in time with the throbbing in his temples.

But he would do it again in a heartbeat.

Stian sat on the bed by Loki’s side and held his sleeping father’s limp hand. As if he could predict what his father was going to do, he pointed at Loki’s other hand, the one with the intravenous cannula. “Use that one, Daddy. So you don’t have to hurt Pappa.”

Stephen nodded. He sat cross-legged on Loki’s other side. Once again, he clasped the sling ring between his palms, feeling the cold, hard edges biting into his skin.

He chanted the words to the Spell of Revelation and felt his magic warm his hands; held in a loose namaskar, they began to glow in a golden light, bright and white-hot against the balmy darkness of the bedroom.

When he opened his palms again, the Sling Ring had split into two cleanly in the middle, one ring in one palm, the other on the other.

Which one?

He stared at the rings in his hands.

 _The one that fits, Stephen,_ he could almost hear Loki say.

_You will know. When it fits._

Stephen handed the one on the left to his son. “Can you hold this for me, Stian? Don’t drop it.”

“I won’t, Daddy.”

Stephen inhaled deeply. Here goes nothing.

He lifted Loki’s hand and began to remove the adhesive film protecting the IV cannula. He gently pulled the entire thing out and blood began to drip from the puncture wound, trailing down the web spaces in between Loki’s fingers and onto the bed.

Stephen let the blood drip drop by drop onto his right palm, watching as Loki’s blood mixed with the brackish dried blood staining the ring, as fresh as if only shed yesterday, despite being centuries upon centuries old.

_An eye for an eye, a son for a son._

Unbeknownst to Loki, by slaying his son, he had paid for a future sin long before he would commit it.

Stephen doubted even Aífe the Warrior Princess herself knew the role she had played, sacrificing the life of their son, only to save Loki’s life centuries later.

But Stephen would not be surprised if Aífe The Ancient One did. And being the insufferable know-it-all that she was, she strung them along like puppets on a string, ever guiding them without revealing, ever helping them without disclosing…

Perhaps the cycle was never going to come to a close. She was going to keep saving Loki over and over again, even after she was long dead and gone.

_Receive this offering and release him from your jaws_

Stephen gasped as his palm began to burn.

_Release him_

The ring began to sizzle. Stephen gritted his teeth against the pain. Sweat was breaking out on his forehead once more.

He groped blindly for Stian and he felt Stian’s little fingers grip around his hand. “Daddy!”

 _“Gah!”_ The magic, dark and ancient, scorched his hand and he could smell the nauseating odor of burnt flesh. He had to hold on for just a little bit longer, he must!

Stephen panted as the pain grew and grew, but Stian’s other hand found its way to his father’s aching hand and instantly the pain disappeared.

And then it was over.

Stephen stared at his son in wondrous marvel. “You’re magic, you know that.”

“Yes, Pappa tells me that all the time.” Stian smiled sweetly.

Gingerly, Stephen opened his palm, anticipating pain, but it never came.

The two bands in Stephen’s right hand now looked nothing like they were. They were identical, except one was made of pure gold, the other white. Each had delicate triquetra knots carved around the entire outer rim, ending in a delicate Claddagh, subtle yet exquisite. They thrummed with magic in his hand.

_You will know. When it fits._

Once again, Loki’s words uttered long ago echoed in his head.

“Which one’s mine, which one’s Pappa’s, Stian?” he asked. “You wanna take a guess?”

“Daddy, you’ve got fat fingers. The white one’s yours, obviously.” Stian climbed over Loki’s sleeping form to settle in Stephen’s lap. _“Duh.”_

Stephen chuckled. “Okay. We’ll see.”

He slipped the gold ring onto Loki’s left ring finger with the heart pointing inward. They were married after all.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” he murmured. “Again.”

He kissed Loki’s fingers softly, just like he had done on the night they first made love. The night they had made Stian.

“Always and forever.”

“Stephen?” he heard someone murmur, but he dared not hope, it must have only been his imagination, he had let it run wild before. He was hearing things.

“Pappa!” Stian squealed. “Pappa, Pappa!”

Stephen’s eyes flew open. He whispered, “Loki?”

Loki smiled tiredly. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Loki.” Stephen’s vision blurred with a sudden wetness, and he blinked furiously. Loki came into focus again, and he sighed in relief. Loki was still looking at him, he had not gone back to sleep –

Loki held out a bony hand. It trembled slightly from weakness and disuse.

Stephen placed the other ring on his palm. Stian had to help Loki lift his elbow as he reached for Stephen’s left hand.

The white gold wedding band slipped easily onto his left ring finger, and true to form, the heart was pointing inward too.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Loki softly repeated Stephen’s words from earlier.

Stephen watched their interlaced fingers with awe.

“Loki Odinson-Strange.” The bands caught in the moonlight and shone. “My heart is yours.”

“And mine is yours." Stephen heard the beautiful words, but nothing could be more beautiful than the sight of Loki's green eyes beneath his tear-dewed lashes. "My sweet, gentle husband.”

 

 

 

 

 


	24. The Runaway Bride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is in the frickin air!

 

_New Asgard, present time_

“Can’t sleep, Majesty?”

“Can’t sleep, My Lady?”

“I asked you first.”

“So it is only right that you be the first to answer.”

She smirked and said nothing. She walked over to stand over Thor’s shoulder.

“She’s grown so much. Not so tiny anymore.”

“Yes, see?” Thor covered her head with his giant palm. “My hand used to come up to here, now it’s up to here.”

She deadpanned. “I don’t think that’s how they measure a baby’s growth, Majesty.”

Thor laughed softly. Valkyrie smiled a small smile of her own.

He turned solemn once more. “I cannot bear the thought of leaving her alone.”

“She isn’t alone.”

“Someone needs to hold her until such time Loki –” Thor’s breath caught in his throat, “Until Loki wakes up.”

“She’s in good hands, Thor.”

“I am her Uncle. If not me, who then?” The line of his jaw tightened. “Our parents are gone. Stephen’s preoccupied with searching for a cure. Stian and Aífe are as good as my own.”

He cleared his royal throat.

“How has he been today?”

“Your brother is such a princess.” She sank into the armchair on the other side of the cot. “Sure sleeps like one. Not even so much as a fart.”

A sad smile. Thor kissed Aífe’s forehead.

“Maybe he’s catching up on all the times he went without when we were younger.” Thor sniffed. “He used to go for days without sleeping. Or food. He was somewhat strange like that.”

“He has always been quite a character, I gather?” She asked lightly. She did not know the Odinsons before Sakaar, so all the backstory she knew she learnt from listening in on occasional conversations and court gossip. Not that she was into all that for she prided herself as good enough a judge of character as the next person.

Thor played with Aífe’s hair next, marvelling at the softness of the strands of red in between his fingers. “I cannot help but blame myself as partly, if not wholly responsible for most of Loki’s pains.”

“How so?”

Thor shrugged. “Where do you wish me to start?”

Oh _dear_. She was probably going to need alcohol for this. But it would probably be very rude if she were to leave now. “Wherever is easiest for you, Majesty. I’m not picky.”

“When I was living in Midgard, before this I mean, there was this show the guys sometimes watched. Seconds From Disaster, I think ‘twas called.” Thor leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. From where she was sitting, he looked tired and thinner.

“Catastrophes don’t just happen in the heat of the moment. They are caused by a chain of events, starting small, mistake leading to another mistake, until it snowballs resulting in disaster.”

“If I had listened to Loki, the accident at the Academy of Magic could have probably been averted. Loki would not have sickened. For all we know that could be the reason why he is still unable to recover.”

“He is unable to recover because of a curse, Thor. It wasn’t anything you did or didn’t do.”

“Oh Valkyrie If you only knew.” Thor’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. He had yet to open his eyes. “The only reason Loki let the Jotunns in was because he had felt mistreated and slighted his entire life, that he felt he had no choice but to ruin my coronation, thinking I wasn’t ready to be King. And he was right. I wasn’t.”

“I led us into Jotunheim. And Loki found out he was a Jotunn when his arm turned blue at the touch of one of his own.” Deep regret darkened Thor’s mismatched eyes. “That catapulted us both onto a spiral, me trying to climb back up to Asgard and regain my worth, and Loki…”

“Well. You know the rest. Even if you don’t, it is not my tragic story to tell.”

“My three-thousand-year-old wisdom tooth is hurting right now. You want to blame yourself for that too while you’re at it?” She lifted an eyebrow. “Jeez. Give your brother some credit why don’t you.”

Thor opened his eyes and stared at her uncomprehendingly.

“Everyone is responsible and accountable for his own choices in life and death, Thor.”

“You can’t carry the blame for all the bad that’s happened. Not unless you’re willing to take credit for all the good too.” She smiled albeit a little sadly.

“The treasure you’re holding in your arms. The Little Prince. Loki turned all goody-goody and working alongside you. And I know what you said to Fancy Man back when he was about to have a nervous breakdown trying to keep your brother alive.” She shrugged as his eyes widened. “I was hiding behind the door. You were a lot kinder to him than I was though. You get extra points for that.”

“His name is Stephen.” Thor simply had to return her smile.

“ _Duh_ , I know his name.” She rolled her eyes. “The only person I call by name around here is Lackey. And even that I purposely get wrong all the time.”

A long moment of silence ensued.

“I miss him, Val.” Thor’s eyes were wet. “I miss my brother.”

“So do I, Majesty,” she said, eyes equally grave. “So do I.”

_____________________________________

“Pappa.” Stian’s fat tears were soaking into Loki’s hair and pillow; who knew for such a small boy, Stian had so many tears in him? “Pappa, Pappa…”

“Shh…I’m here, my sweet,” Loki sifted his fingers through Stian’s hair. “I’m okay now, see?”

“I thought you were never going to wake up.” Stian hiccupped into his neck. Stephen rubbed comforting circles on their son’s quivering back.

“You brought Pappa back, Stian.” Stephen could not have been more proud of him than right at this moment.

Stian rubbed the back of his hand against his nose and sniffed furiously, “I did?”

Stephen nodded, beaming. “You did very well. I am so proud of you.”

Despite the tears of joy still clinging to his eyelashes, Stian gave his parents a sunny smile, before jumping off the bed. Kissing Loki on the cheek one last time, “Be right back, Pappa!”

Cerulean blue began to swirl around Stian’s form –

“Stian, where do you think you’re going?” Stephen tried to sound as stern as possible but was failing miserably; his heart was simply too light and aflutter with exhilaration and pure joy. “It’s nearly midnight!”

“To get Uncle Thor!” Stian said excitedly, his lower body beginning to disappear, “He says to come get him if Pappa even so much as twitches! And Pappa’s twitching a lot!”

Loki groaned softly, both in chagrin and in dire foreboding. “Grounding that child is going to be next to impossible.”

“Uh-uh.”

“We have two, three minutes at most. For someone so large, Thor moves fast.”

“I know. He damn near beat me trying to get to you that night.” It would stay with Stephen forever, the image of Loki convulsing on their kitchen floor with the red moon casting its ominous light across his violently shaking frame, as red as the blood spurting from his nose.

“How long?” Loki asked softly.

“Two weeks.” Stephen traced his fingers over the outlines of Loki’s face, marvelling at how soft his features were now that he was awake. Gone was the cutting sharpness of his cheekbones, the sunken hollowness of his cheeks – Stephen must be dreaming.

“Is this real?” He murmured. “Are you real?”

Loki’s eyes seemed to tear again as they roamed his face, “Are _you_ real?”

“Two damn weeks, Loki…” Stephen pressed Loki’s hand to the side of his face; the ring felt cool against his skin. Stephen kissed it, once again marvelling at the sight of it on Loki’s finger. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Two…weeks.” Loki’s other hand went to his stomach and he froze. He twisted his head to look at it. True enough, it was back to its usual, concave flatness. “Where is she?”

“Stephen, _please_ tell me she made it?” Loki’s breaths quickened, on the verge of hyperventilating.

“Shh, darling.” Stephen kissed his knuckles. “She’s fine. Aífe’s just fine.”

“Oh thank the Norns,” Loki nearly sobbed as relief washed over him like a tsunami.  His hand trembled as he palmed his eyes. And soon his entire body was trembling too.

“Oh, Loki…” Stephen could not hold himself back any longer. Thor was probably going to be here any second, but no one was going to steal this moment from him.

No one.

Stephen seized Loki’s lips in a raw, bruising kiss, despite the little voice at the back of his head cautioning to perhaps be a bit gentle, but when Loki succumbed to his kiss with an icy fire Stephen did not think he would ever savour again, he threw caution to the wind; he snaked an arm around the back of Loki’s neck and lifted, bony frame and all –

_“Loki.”_

He held Loki tightly to his chest, needed Loki to feel the thundering of his heart against his own, needed him to know how with every heartbeat Stephen had missed him. Had missed him so, so much

_“Don’t you ever, ever do that to me again.”_

He could feel the sharp tip of Loki’s chin dig into his shoulder as he nodded.

_“Thank you, Stephen.”_

Loki’s thin arms found their way around Stephen’s back. _“For grounding me again and again.”_

They kissed again, not even stopping for breath, not even when Loki’s chapped lips bled.

 _“I love you.”_ Stephen did not know who said it first, but it would not surprise him if they had said it at the same time, the voice in his head sounding neither his nor Loki’s –

But for good measure, he said it again, out loud this time. “I love you, Odinson.”

Loki lifted his head to catch Stephen’s lips again. “It’s Odinson-Strange now,” he corrected.

Stephen murmured in between kisses, “Damn right, it is.”

“LOKI!!!!!” Thor thundered from somewhere down the hallway. And seconds later, they heard the front door crash to the floor with a bang.

Stephen groaned.

“Oh…boy.” Guess Thor could not be bothered with punching in the security codes.

_Here we go._

___________________________________________

_New York, the morning of the wedding._

 

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“Uh-uh.”

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“Yep.”

“Never thought I’d see the day.”

“For a married man, you seem overly concerned about my committing myself to the institution of marriage.” Stephen watched as Tony’s reflection paced behind him in the full-length mirror. “Were you this uncertain when you made the decision to make the lovely Mrs Stark your bride?”

“This is Loki we’re talking about. This is no ordinary bride.”

“And you forget, Stark. I am no ordinary man.” Stephen said coolly, inspecting his cuff links for non-existent blemish. For the third time.

“You got me there, Doctor.” Tony finally stopped in his tracks.

“Well, I’ve said it once. No harm saying it again.” Tony looked at him over his shoulder. “Whatever makes you happy, man.”

“I am happy for you.”

“Thank you, Stark.”

Tony ran his eyes up and down. “You look very _dashing_ , by the way.”

“Are you sure you won’t be needing a best man? The offer still stands.”

“Asgardian customs requires no best man. A true warrior doesn’t need another man to stand by his side in the midst of battle, he certainly doesn’t need one at the altar.” Stephen cocked his head as he studied his friend’s reflection in the mirror. “Besides, I’m not sure how Loki feels about having you in the official photos.”

The uncalled-for derogatory comment aside,

“A true war- oh _God_.” Tony sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, I find interracial marriage beautiful and all –”

“Interspecies,” Stephen murmured.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, but it’s so complicated. You’ll always be second-guessing yourself, wondering if you haven’t stepped on somebody’s toes by accident –”

“I have the rest of my life to learn.”

“And you can’t afford to be making any mistakes! You’re going to be the King’s Brother-in-Law, for Christ’s sakes!” Tony gaped. “I bet you their wedding night ritual is probably creepy as fuck – ”

“Did you know in Swahili culture they would get older relatives to sleep under the matrimonial bed while the newlyweds consummate the marriage, for the sole purpose of making sure the bride isn’t resistant to her groom and that the marriage is actually consummated? They check the bed sheets and everything, like in The Tudors!”

He froze, a look of horror in his face, “What if you find Thor hiding under your bed??”

“Tony. You just want to be in the photos, don’t you.”

A glum, “Yes.”

Tony pouted. “It’s good for my intergalactic reputation. Branching into medical tourism, didn’t you hear?”

Stephen sighed, and turned his head to study his friend’s dejected profile.

If it had not been for Tony Stark, Dr Stephen Strange and Loki of Asgard might still be at odds with each other, on a cosmic, irreconcilable scale. Who would have guessed?

He smiled benevolently. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Stephen fiddled with the bow tie again and wondered for the hundredth time if he should swap the black for a bit of colour. “I quite like the idea of having a best man. If you hear me shout ‘Line!’, then that’s your cue to rescue me in the unlikely event of having to salvage a catastrophic groom’s speech.”

“I’m a man of iron and words alike, my friend. I won’t let you down.” Tony beamed. Then the brightness of his face took a turn, “Oh but that means I’m a bit underdressed now! Have to call Pepper, have to call her, where’s my phone…”

_Nah. Black, always the gold standard. Goes with everything._

“I mean, what’s the worst thing Loki could do?” Stephen shrugged. “Hide you behind an invisibility spell the entire ceremony?”

Tony abruptly dropped his phone.

 _“Tony?”_ Pepper’s voice squeaked out of the speakers. _“Tony, you still there?”_

Stephen smiled. It was going to be a beautiful day.

Nothing to be nervous about. Absolutely nothing.

____________________________________

_New Asgard, the morning of the wedding_

 

“Majesty, we have an emergency.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve called in a few royal favours and yes, we will be getting the game and the poultry and the venison and the alcohol and whatever else for tonight’s feast! I don’t how they could have screwed up such an important order, someone needs to fire someone,” he muttered.

“No, not that kind of emergency Thor!” Although it was considerate of Thor to ensure a never-ending supply of alcohol, which she was sorely in need of right freaking now because

“Loki’s gone missing.”

“Nonsense. The wedding is in three hours. The entourage from New York will be arriving pretty shortly.”

“He is actually, really, abso- _fucking_ -lutely missing.” If she didn’t love her hair so much, she would be tearing it out right about now. “No one can find him anywhere!”

“Are you sure?”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and kept her tongue in check lest she say something stupid like, ‘ No, I just like making up stories about your insufferable brother especially on very important days such as his own damn wedding, ‘ and get her beautiful hair (and/or head) chopped off.

“ _Yes_ , Your Majesty, your brother Loki, the Prince of Asgard, is m-i-s-s-i-n-g.”

“Are you sure he is not just holed up in his room, sick with nerves? He carries tension in his stomach.”

“Oh wait, I don’t think we’ve checked his room – of _course_ he is not in his room, Thor! That was the first place we looked!” She fought to remain calm. Getting frustrated was not the way to get anything done.

“The Master of the Horses wanted him to try the new bridal saddle he commissioned and has been looking for him since this morning, but no one has seen Loki since breakfast!” She put her hands on her hips. “Now he is panicking because he needs to know if the Prince is going to ride side saddle or astride - ”

“Loki’s never going to ride side saddle. Not even when he’s wearing a dress, which he isn’t.”

Her mouth fell open. These Odinson brothers were really going to be the death of her one day. “Thor, that is hardly the most important thing right now.”

“You are not suggesting my brother has gotten cold feet right now when we are literally hours from the wedding?”

“I am not suggesting anything other than the fact that he seems to have disappeared into thin air, Majesty, and you need to find him,” she said tiredly. Finally the King was getting it. “And you’d better find him fast.”

“There is no need for alarm, Valkyrie,” Thor said calmly. “You find Stian, you find him.”

“Stian’s sleeping in the nursery, and I assure you, Loki isn’t there.” Her ire was beginning to rouse again at his nonchalance. “What do you take me for? Don’t you think I’ve checked?”

“Alright, alright, Valkyrie, calm your horses.”

“Calm my –” She palmed her face. She could not believe this was happening. “Lackey can be anywhere on this planet and the only person who has a chance of pinpointing his location is his damn fiancé and I don’t want to be the person who breaks the news.”

“What do you take me for, Valkyrie?” He rose from his chair, and she took a step back as he towered over her.

Once she was certain he was only rising to stand instead of to strike her where she stood, “So you know where he is?”

“Of course I do.” Thor tucked his helmet under his arm. “I’m his brother.”

“Then why didn’t you say something?” She seethed.

“Because it’s fun watching you getting all flustered over nothing.”

“I know it’s regicide but can I strangle you anyway?”

Thor laughed.

_______________________________________________

_New Asgard, present time_

 

Thor wavered uncertainly at Stephen and Loki’s bedroom door, dying to step inside but knowing he shouldn’t –

Stephen waved an exasperated hand in from where he was sitting on the foot of the bed. “Come on in!”

And now he _could!_

Overjoyed, he threw himself down on the side of the bed. Even when kneeling, he towered over his brother. “Loki?”

“Hey, Thor.” Loki grinned slyly. “Did you miss me?”

Thor could not speak. He responded to the silly question that was so characteristically Loki the only way he knew how; he was not even going to be all vague about it like the last time back on The Statesman –

He could feel the breath leave Loki’s chest as he squeezed his brother in his arms. He let go for a split second to allow Loki to gasp in a breath before drawing him in again, into a tighter embrace this time.

From now on he would hug his brother whenever he felt like it, just because he could, and irritate the Hel out of him, just because he could.

“How could you?” Thor mumbled into Loki’s shoulder. His arms shook as they tried not to crush Loki in his feverish outpouring of emotions. “How could you?”

“And miss out on this?” Loki sounded teasing, yet his voice was shaking just as much, his frail hand sifting through Thor’s hair gently. “I don’t even need a bath what will all of you bawling over me.”

“Oh you’re going to be one crying now, Lackey.” A new voice spoke from the door.

Thor surreptitiously wiped the back of his hand against his eye before releasing Loki back down gently. “Oh yes, he so _is_.”

Loki craned his neck to see, “I am _so_ not.”

Stian bounded into the room and pounced on the bed like the tornado incarnate that he was, “Pappa! Look who’s here! Lady Val, come on!”

With shining eyes, Valkyrie sat herself on the small spot next to Loki’s pillow. “Say hello to your daughter,” and thrust a bundle into his arms very carefully.

Loki’s lower lip trembled. No, he was not going to burst into tears, not with all these people here –

He teased her hair with the tips of his fingers. He should have figured. Aífe gave his daughter not just her name, but her fiery hair as well.  

How could something that came out of him be so beautiful?

“Hello, little one,” he croaked. At the sound of his voice, thick and choked with emotions, Aífe opened her eyes.

And Loki lost it. He began to sob.

“Oh Pappa…” The soft-hearted Stian began to cry too, his little hands pawing at his face to wipe the tears away. “Pappa, it’s not good to cry so much, you’ll get sick…”

Aífe gurgled as if in agreement with her brother, but that made Loki cry even harder.

Stian turned to his father helplessly. “Daddy, tell him!”

Valkyrie decided it was time to step in and save the night before everyone became a downright mess, herself included. “Come on, Revengers! Group hug, group hug!”

“You too, Fancy Man!” Stephen felt her pull him in and soon, everybody was crying and laughing at the same time.

Thor would deny it to his dying day, but he cried the hardest.

__________________________________

_New Asgard, two hours before the royal wedding_

 

“Thought I might find you here.” A familiar voice interrupted his quiet reverie. “The Valkyrie’s near hysterical. You damn near turned her hair white, thinking you’d bailed.”

“Surely she wouldn’t begrudge me my last few hours of solitude before all the mayhem starts.”

“I think a Post-It on the door would have saved her a lot of heartache, Loki.”

“I don’t know what that is, but I never usually tell people where I’m going, and I’m hardly going to start doing that now.” Loki breathed in, savouring the smell of the sea. “Totally ruins the mystery.”

“Ah, yes. I’ve got a couple of grey hair at such a young age, thanks to you and your mystery.”

“Come now, Thor. You liked listening to the stories of all my adventures.”

“I would have liked them more had you been the one telling them.”

“Not my fault you’re an aural person, Thor. I’m a linguist. I read fantastic stories, and I get people to write fantastic stories about me.”

Thor watched a seagull swoop down and snatch its prey out of the water.

Loki crossed his long legs in front of him. “I’ve been sitting here, waiting for a sign.”

“A sign? Of what? Who from?”

Loki shrugged. He hesitated for a heartbeat. “Valkyrie’s not entirely wrong, you know.”

“Come Brother. You’re not one to get cold feet about anything. In fact, you do the complete opposite. You run headlong into it, create as much mischief as you can and try to talk your way out of it.”

He glanced at his brother out of the corner of one eye.

“You’ve never been surer about anything.” Thor mirrored his posture, crossing his slightly longer legs in front of him.

“That’s why you’re here. Instead of hiding somewhere on some other planet where you know no one can ever find or reach you.” Thor cleared his throat delicately. “Not even your Stephen Strange.”

“How did you come to know me so well, Brother?”

“You’re not the only one who’s changed, Loki.”

“I guess not.” Loki smiled. Then he faltered. “You’re not going to make me change my mind? Marrying a hu – ” he caught himself. “Marrying Stephen?”

“What was it you once said? About me and Jane?” Thor frowned.

“It’s a heartbeat,” Loki said, his voice hollow.

“It’s a heartbeat, yes.”

Thor turned to look at him and smiled gently. “And it’s still beating, isn’t it.” He touched the tip of his finger to Loki’s chest. “It’s beating for you.”

“You going to take that away from him?”

Loki’s eyes smarted. He shook his head furiously.

“That’s what I thought.” Thor nodded. “Does Stephen make you as happy as you make him?”

Loki nodded, albeit slowly at first, but he became surer with each nod.

“Then nothing makes me happier, Loki.” Thor beamed sunnily, looking every inch the Golden Prince Loki grew up with, and the Golden King Loki would serve till the end of their days.

“You are my brother, Loki. And I love you.” Thor’s hand was warm at the back of his neck. “And I’m not giving you away today, nor am I giving you up.”

“I’m gaining another brother.”

Thor drew in a kingly breath. “As you can see, there aren’t that many of us left.”

A single tear trailed silently down Loki’s cheek. Thor reached to thumb it away tenderly.

“How now, Loki? Shall we get back and get you married?”

Loki threw himself forward and damn near toppled Thor backward as Loki hugged him tightly, unabashedly. “You’re the sign, Thor.”

“About time.” Thor mussed his brother's short hair as Loki released him as suddenly as he had embraced him.

“Come. Let’s get you dressed up. Can’t have you looking a mess and Stephen stealing all the limelight, can we?”

Loki gave a little sinister laugh. “He can _certainly_ try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys, yesterday was a crappy day so everything was coming out angsty. Today is way happier, hence, the second last chapter!
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and comments, I. LOVE. THEM. ALL.


	25. Happiness Is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happiness is a dinner party, a baby...and a Wedding (yes, in that order).
> 
> And Disneyland.

_New York, the night that changed everything._

 

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“Come on Loki, you hardly ever leave your room at the Tower,” Thor cajoled. “It’s not healthy being cooped up all the time, it has to be bad for your lungs –”

“I duly thank you for your concern, Thor, but my lungs are fine.”

“You’ll go hungry…” Thor warned, waggling his finger.

Loki valiantly fought the raging urge to incinerate that finger to cinders.

No. What was that funny Midgardian saying again? Right.

_Shove it up where the sun don’t shine, and then burn it to cinders._

“Thor, I am not a child. I’ll order room service. This is a hotel, isn’t it.”

“Come on, Loki, just stay for a while. Please, for me.”

“That stopped working on me some eight hundred years ago.” Somehow Loki managed to peer Thor down the line of his nose, despite being a smidge shorter than his brother. “You can’t make me.”

“I can’t be the one making all the effort!” Thor held exasperated hands to his hips. “You’re one of the guys now.”

“I don’t want to be one of your guys,” Loki said flatly. “I have no desire to be one of anything.”

“Loki, come on. You used to love parties back when we were children,” Thor tried again, this time appealing to Loki’s sense of nostalgia. “Remember that one time you pulled that trick on Volstagg, when you swapped his beer for a tankard of horse piss?”

“You must be talking about another offspring of Odin I didn’t know about because I remember loving no such thing.” But the bud of a smile began tugging, albeit reluctantly, at one corner of Loki’s lips. “In my defense, Volstagg was so plastered by that point he didn’t even realise what he was drinking.”

He glanced at the table, already so rowdy what with Anthony Stark's horsing around and everyone talking loudly at a volume way above the acceptable conversational level.

“Are you saying I can swap everybody’s drink with horse piss?” Loki’s eyes lit up hopefully.

“NO!”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Then what is the point of me.”

“We are here to be merry and show our support for our friend Stark who is embarking on the ever perilous journey of marriagehood!” Thor waved a hand, he was quick losing his patience. “I’m sure if you get married one day, they would do the same for you?”

“No.” Loki shook his head slowly. “And….no.”

“Loki, come on!” Thor bared his teeth. He was going to stomp his feet any second now. “I am _starving!”_

“Thor, don’t make a scene.”

“Yo Reindeer Games! Point Break, over here! About fuckin’ time, guys!”

“Oh dear. He’s already drunk. I can barely stand him when he’s sober – I’m leaving. Goodbye.”

Thor sighed. He hated playing dirty, but if it had to be done… “Ah. I see.”

Loki knew he should just keep walking. Just keep walking.

He stopped. “What.”

“Looks like the empty seats left would sit you next to…either The Wizard with the funny facial hair, or Barton.” Thor nodded in sympathy. “I understand your predicament, Brother.”

“You…do.”

“You go on back to the room then.” Thor’s chest rose as he took in a deep breath, looking strangely determined for some reason. “I’ll cover for you.”

“And what will you say?”

“You know I can’t lie, Brother. I’ll just tell them you’re too sensitive and too delicate to weather such unpleasant and ill-wishing company.”

_I’m what now?_

“You will do no such _thing_.” With a hiss, Loki left his insufferable brother to stalk toward the table, where Tony was still waving them over –

“So which of the two will you be honouring with your royal presence tonight, then?”

“The lesser of two evils.”

“Barton?”

“Not if you want me to die of poison,” Loki muttered under his breath. “I’ll take on the sorcerer wannabe. He owes me.”

“You know what they say, Brother. Second time’s the charm.” Thor slapped him on the back. “Who knows, you might end up liking him.”

“Are you _mad?”_

Thor only laughed, and took his seat next to Hawkeye.

Loki slid gracefully into the last empty seat between his brother and the Sorcerer Supreme, steadfastly avoiding everyone’s gaze, his form rigid and stiff.

He had only just sat and was already counting the seconds until such time it was somewhere between acceptable and acceptably rude to excuse himself and leave this sorry excuse of a dinner party –

“Seems like we got off on the wrong foot the last time we met.”

Heavens, why was this man talking to him? Loki groaned inwardly. Despite his outward display of bravado to Thor earlier, Loki really was not feeling very conversational tonight. He felt strangely hot and bothered; all he wanted to do now was take an ice-cold shower and then finish the damn book Thor had made him leave in their room.

“We’ve met, have we? I’m terribly sorry, you must have not left a very lasting impression.”

Loki tipped the wine bottle until his glass was two drops shy off overflowing. He was going to make himself drunk. He did not know how or if it was even possible, but he was certainly going to try.

Stephen tutted. “No need to be so hostile, my dear. People might think we’re a couple.”

Loki ignored him.

He was going to ignore everybody, drink a lot, and wait it out. How hard could it be?

As the minutes passed by, it began to dawn on Loki that it was going to be hard. Very hard indeed.

The raw magic radiating off the human wizard next to him was doing all sorts of things to his body; there was an unbearable itch deep within him and he recognised it as his own seidr responding to the aura this Strange character was emanating from his very core.

Loki became acutely aware of everything this insufferable human was doing, down to the rate of his breathing, the quickening of his pulse every time he laughed at something silly one of the other silly people at the table said, the deep timbre of his voice –

What a _fucking_ mistake.

He wondered if Thor would swap places with him; he would rather face a hundred of Barton’s arrows than this.

And the sounds. The sounds were driving him _mad_.

The incessant clanging and banging, barely audible to others, was maddeningly loud to his hypersensitive ears.

“Oh dear, would you like me to cut up your meat for you?” he forced through gritted teeth.

“Would you feed me while you’re at it, darling?” Stephen replied without missing a beat.

Loki could not take it, he was going to scream –

A wave of his hand, and a silencing spell deadened the sounds of Stephen’s cutlery.

 _That_ seemed to get his attention. Stephen dropped his fork and knife from his shaking hands onto his plate soundlessly, and turned to look at Loki in fury.

“People are starting to stare,” Loki murmured.

“What’s it to you who they’re staring at?” Stephen could not help but snap in irritation.

“I’m sitting next to you.” Loki’s voice was equally sharp. “I do not like being the centre of attention.”

“Really?” Stephen’s voice was light, but acid was on his tongue. “All you’ve done since you entered our orbit was seek attention –”

“Exactly. Attention is unwanted unless I’m the one calling it.”

Stephen studied him, noting the stiff line of his shoulders, the spasm of his temples from jaws clenched so tight. “You’re quite a peculiar one, aren’t you.”

“I have been called that, yes,” Loki admitted. He found himself breathing easier. “I assume you mean that in the complimentary sense of the word?”

“Do flatter yourself as much as you want, Loki.” Stephen’s deliberate drawling of his name caused Loki’s stomach to flip lazily. “I don’t see anyone else doing it.”

Strangely aroused now, Loki studied the human sorcerer openly, “Why do you put them on display?”

Stephen lifted his eyebrows in a silent request for clarification.

“Your damaged hands.”

Stephen would have retorted something equally insulting in response had it not been for the genuine note of wonder in Loki’s voice. “Surely you know how to cast a simple glamour over them?”

“I’m a real man. I wear my scars proudly. I don’t need to make myself look pretty.” Stephen squared his chin. “It is a sign of low self-esteem.”

“Are you implying that I am not naturally pretty, Doctor? Or that I am not a real man?”

“Am I not right on at least one account?”

“You’re amusing.” Loki gave in to the sudden, maddening urge to smile.“I _like_ you.”

“I…have no opinion of you whatsoever.” Stephen coolly lifted his glass to his lips. “Currently.”

“ _How_ unfortunate.” Unfortunate for whom was anyone’s guess, for Loki’s smile seemed to be widening by the second.

Someday he was going to make this human sorcerer _kneel_.

“Come now Doctor,” he purred. “You would not have trapped me in a free-falling portal if you hadn’t at least formed some sort of opinion of me.”

Loki propped his arm on one elbow and leaned his cheek into the palm of his hand, cocking his head slightly. “Go on, do tell. I promise you won’t hurt my feelings.”

“It was on a strictly professional level, nothing personal.” Stephen lifted a cocky eyebrow. “So you do remember me.”

“I remember you running away from a fight,” Loki said silkily.

“If I had not dispatched of you and your brother both, you would have missed the chance to say whatever last words you needed to say to your dying father.”

And in that instant, all the blood drained from Loki’s face, as did the light from his eyes.  

As swift as the wind, Loki was out of his seat in a heartbeat and would have swept out of the restaurant in the blink of an eye, had Stephen’s hand not snaked out to wrap around his wrist –

and yanked him back into his seat.

“Don’t make a scene, darling.” He released Loki’s wrist like a piece of hot coal.

His fingers smarted where Loki’s seidr had prickled his skin like static.

Loki could not speak. His hand shook.

He poured himself another glass of wine.

“You might want to try and eat something,” Stephen admonished gently. Loki scoffed and pointedly downed his glass in one go.

Stephen could not help it. He was technically, a medical doctor after all. “That much alcohol on an empty stomach isn’t advisable, Loki.”

A low, crazed laugh was the only response Loki was apparently capable of giving.

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” Stephen offered quietly. Unconsciously he hid the hand he had used to grab Loki under the table. He knew Loki had felt it shake.

Stephen dipped his head slowly, as though one would if one were to share a secret with a stranger; for Loki had been shaking too. “Some scars are invisible for a reason.”

Loki was cultured enough to recognise even the subtlest gesture of a truce. He massaged his temples tiredly.

Was he really doing this?

His hand fell away. He turned his head slowly.

“Would you like to see all my scars, Doctor?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Loki’s wrist still tingled where Stephen’s magic had touched him. “I have seen yours.”

“Not all of them.” Stephen had the nerve to _smirk_.

His head was beginning to swim. Damnit the human sorcerer was right. Loki cleared his throat. “It is getting late.”

The smirk turned into a beatific knowing smile. It was barely ten p.m.

Out of all people, Stephen knew full well the value of chances, and the cost of missing them, on purpose or otherwise. “Shall we retire to our rooms?”

By the look in Loki’s eyes, now clear and no longer glazed with ill-concealed fury, it was evident that Loki knew it too.

_Let’s see what this human sorcerer’s made of, shall we?”_

Their gazes met, and as if in sync, they both rose at almost the same time. It took Loki a tad slower to gain his equilibrium, the floor was tilting a bit – a foreign hand on the small of his back stood him upright again.

“Thank you, Doctor.” Never let it be said that Loki of Asgard was without manners; it would be a disgrace to the memory of his late Mother.

“After you.”

____________________________________

 

“Uh-oh.” Tony watched the unfolding scene before him with avid curiousity. “We have a situation, Captain.”

Steve followed the line of Tony’s gaze.

Loki and Stephen seemed to be talking and being perfectly civil with each other, if civil meant engaging in a conversation while not actually looking at one another and sitting as far apart from each other as possible without Loki sitting in Thor’s lap, and Stephen in Bruce’s.

“That smile on his face. Look familiar to you?”

“Loki doesn’t smile enough to make anything on his face familiar…”

“That’s his KBM smile!” Tony hissed.

“His what?”

“The Kneel-Before-Me smile! You know the one he was wearing back in Stuttgart! Back when he was still a semi-brainwashed villain and kicking your ass, remember?”

“Tony, you’re drunk. He was not kicking my ass.”

“He was kicking somebody’s ass and it wasn’t mine.”

Ever the Good Samaritan, “Should we rescue him?”

Tony burst out laughing. “From what?”

“Should we warn him?” Steve could not _not_ do something..

“Oh I think Stephen can take perfect care of himself.”

“Tony…” Steve gave him an exasperated look. “You planned all this, didn’t you?”

“Who, me?” Tony blinked his innocent brown eyes. “You know what they call us, Steve?”

“The Avengers?”

“You know what they call us behind our backs, Steve?”

“Still The Avengers?”

“No. They call us The Lonely Hearts Club!”

Tony poked his finger in Steve’s chest. “Young, well, _young-looking_ , acceptable-looking, elligible, perfectly date-able bachelors, all under one roof!” Steve recoiled to avoid getting champagne all over his shirt, “Now me? I’m getting married soon enough, but you guys…” He tsked, “Someone’s gotta do something.”

“So you sick  _Loki_ on the good Doctor? How is that helping?”

“Ask me again in a year, Captain.” Tony smiled somewhat knowingly, sadistically.

“Hope you know what you’re doing, Stark,” Steve chastised him lightly.

“Okay,” Tony relented, a little deflatedly. Steve sure knew how to kill a mood.

“Two years. Ask me again in two years.”

_____________________________________

_New Asgard, The Royal Wedding_

 

“Two years, Captain,” Tony murmured, still wearing the same self-satisfactory smirk on his face ever since Steve Rogers arrived with the other guests from New York, courtesy of Master Wong and his ever-timely portals. “What did I tell ya.”

“Two years and a bit, Tony.”

“Two years plus a couple of months. Close enough.”

“You got lucky.”

“Goodness your shoes sure are shiny.”

“I am a soldier, Tony,” Steve said seriously. “Everything has to be shiny.”

“I bet,” Tony said drily.

“Leave him alone, Tony,” Pepper muttered, still trying to work her phone for the past half hour. “Oh my God the signal here’s worse than down at the French catacombs.”

She finally gave up and offered Steve an exasperated smile. “Our daughter Morgan’s teething and she’s been cranky all morning.” She pointed at her husband, “This guy? Is cranky because the groom’s ditched him as the best man at the last second and he still hasn’t come to terms with it.”

“It’s Loki,” Tony said darkly. “He’s gone evil again, I’m sure of it. He’s turned Stephen against me.”

“Why in the world would he need to do that?” Pepper rolled her eyes. ”And why in the world would the Doctor need you? They’re not even exchanging wedding rings, so you are obsolete. You’ll be sticking out like a sore thumb up there.”

“I have to agree with you, M’am. He’s looking pretty steady up there all by himself.” He nodded his head to where Stephen was standing on the altar, an easy smile on his face, as he bounced Stian up and down his arms, sending the little Prince into fits of giggles –

“He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Pepper gushed dreamily.

“Uh, I wouldn’t – I wouldn’t really know, M’am,” Steve said, glancing at Tony worriedly. “I suppose?”

Pepper had to laugh. “I meant the Prince, Steve. Their little boy. Isn’t he just the most precious thing you’ve ever seen?”

“He’s grown so big.” Steve marveled. “The last time I saw him was at your wedding, and he was a tiny little thing then.”

He seemed to recall Stephen and Loki disappearing off somewhere in the middle of the ceremony, and they had to take turns holding the kid; Steve had no idea which arm went where and Romanoff, surprisingly quite adept at handling children herself, showed him how. Steve was proud to say that he could hold little babies like a pro now, thanks to the Black Widow.

Stephen propped Stian on his hip and when his little boy reached for the sparkling corsage at his breast, drew his son’s attention away by conjuring golden butterflies out of thin air; the group of courtiers seated nearest to the altar oohed and aahed as Stian clapped his hands excitedly, his shrieks resounding through the Great Hall.

A beautiful olive-skinned woman in a glinting silver armour stepped forward, said something to Stephen, and held out her arms. With a nod, he handed Stian over to her and suddenly the Sorcerer Supreme did not look so steady anymore.

He clasped both his hands together and from afar, caught Steve’s eye. He hesitated, before giving them a small smile.

Steve gave him a thumb’s up.

Perhaps he needed a best man after all…poor guy looked nervous.

A petite, strawberry-blonde woman walked up to Stephen and must be giving him a motivational speech of some sort because suddenly all hesitation seemed to leave him; he kissed her swiftly on the cheek, and Stephen began to stand up a little straighter, his smile a little brighter.

“That’s Dr Christine Palmer, an old friend of Stephen’s. She was the one who delivered their son,” Pepper said.

“I see.” Steve nodded. He remembered Tony jetting over to Norway when the news broke that Loki had gone into labour. Banner had been in Asgard for a good few months beforehand, citing complications with Loki’s pregnancy. It was touch and go for a while but all seemed to have gone well in the end.

Steve found himself missing their good old fighting days sometimes; now that Thor and Loki had relocated to New Asgard, things were’t quite as…interesting anymore.

The chandeliers dimmed. Beautiful strings music began to play.

“It’s starting,” Pepper whispered excitedly. She nudged her husband sternly. “Look sharp, Tony.”

A procession of spectral horses suddenly thundered down the aisle in a breathtaking parade of golden chariots and sleek black manes and green streamers – the Prince’s royal colours.

The guests gasped as the chariots took flight, swirling in the air before disappearing into a burst of fireworks at the altar right in front of their eyes.

And there he was, suddenly standing on the altar, with the King of Asgard by his side.

“Guy sure knows how to make an entrance,” Tony muttered under his breath enviously.

Loki stood straight-backed and tall, looking resplendent in his full Asgardian regalia. Gone were his usual blacks, he was now wearing a ceremonial armour made entirely of gold, the front of his platebody bedecked with intricate fishscales that shimmered yellow when turned one way, and rose gold when turned another. A slim, long sword hung low from his hip; its gilded scabbard glinting as his hand slowly came to rest upon its hilt.

Thor turned to wink surreptitously at the Valkyrie. _Found him,_ he mouthed.

Instead of his trademark horned helm, Loki wore on his head a very fine, Baroque-style crown made entirely of black star sapphires studded with a spatter of green emeralds and the most exquisite Russian agate. His short hair was slicked back cleanly off his forehead and temples but its ends were left to curl softly at the nape his neck and skim the lapels of his gold-hemmed cape, the colour of which was a soft blue-green that matched his eyes perfectly.

He was a vision.

Even Tony had to admit it. “He cleaned up pretty well.” He kindly added, “For a greasy former supervillain.”

Pepper glanced at him. “You have to decide Tony. Either you’re glad you fixed them up or you regret it. Can’t have it both ways.”

“How can I regret it, Potts?” Tony asked softly. He tilted his chin. “Look at him.”

Stephen had yet to take his eyes off his fiancé, completely and utterly awestruck. Tony doubted he was even breathing, his chest so still, his face getting redder and redder by the minute –

“Told him he’d end up underdressed. These Asgardians don’t play around,” Tony muttered.

“Oh I don’t know, Tony. Loki looks pretty pleased, if you ask me,” Pepper said, her voice strangely high-pitched despite her light tone. She was going to cry any minute now, Tony just knew it.

Thor and Loki walked slowly toward the center of the altar, where an intricate, silver censer sat on its deceivingly delicate-looking, gilded-bronze mounting.

Stephen walked across from the other direction to meet them halfway, never once taking his eyes off Loki. He found himself physically incapable of averting his gaze, not when Loki was looking at him with such a soft expression Stephen could almost forget that he was standing in the Great Hall in front of hundreds of people.

He did not even mind that Loki’s choice of attire completely contrasted with his own – Loki could wear anything he damn well pleased.

As long as the next time you walk out those big golden doors, you walk out of them married to _me_ , Stephen thought with a delicious thrill.

The censer came to the level of their waists. Stephen and Loki stood side by side to face it and Thor, who broke protocol by squeezing the back of his brother’s neck before climbing up the steps to take his place as the King of Asgard upon the throne.

Stephen held out a hand over the censer, and the moment Loki placed his own atop Stephen’s, a blue flame flickered and roared to life, licking their adjoining hands. Expecting the heat of binding magic, Stephen stifled a gasp at the unexpected icy frigidness of the flames.

When he turned to look at Loki, he nearly gasped again, for now Loki’s elaborate armour had disappeared. In its place, Loki was now wearing a beautifully-tailored five-piece suit in the most pristine ivory, his champagne gold tie and matching handkerchief in the left breast pocket shimmering with the tiniest sheen of gossamer.

If ever there was an angel on earth, Stephen was standing right next to it.

He knew he was not supposed to Mindspeak, Loki had expressly told him not to, but he could not help it.

_“Oh, Loki…”_

When Loki’s eyes began to water at just the sound of Stephen’s voice, he knew why.

“Loki. Stephen,” Thor began gruffly. “The fire before you is the Fire of Commitment.”

“Your flames are separate, yet they feed the same fire. When one sputters, the flame burns smaller.” Thor’s hand wrapped around Stormbreaker. “Keep it alive, and may its heat warm your hearts through all the days of your lives and beyond.”

“Stephen, I give you my brother, to cherish and to hold, for out of many, he has chosen you. And thus I beseech you, protect him from all that wishes to harm him. Honour him, and love him, _without condition_ –” Stormbreaker thudded on the floor as Thor’s decree resounded through the Great Hall.

“For his heart is tender and his soul is true,” Thor said softly, gazing at his brother.

“I will.” Stephen vowed.

He turned toward the one person he now knew he loved more than anyone. “Loki. You and Stian are the gifts I never thought to ask for. I took a chance on us and that turned out to be the best decision I've ever made in my life, for I cannot imagine not being with you."

"For all that you want, for all that you need, my heart is yours."

Stephen stared deep until Loki's eyes. “Until the day it stops, it beats for you, and only you."

"This, I vow to thee.” On its own volition, Stephen’s magic began to uncoil and golden tendrils of energy slithered in between their conjoint hands, slipping in and out of their fingers.

Thor risked a glance at his brother’s face; Loki looked like he was going to burst into tears any second now, he’d better hurry this up –

“Loki.” His brother’s head snapped up, his green eyes bright and shiny with tears.

“Will you in turn, give Stephen your trust, share with him your dreams and your joys, your fears and your pains, hold him in times of griefs and ills, understand the burden of his responsibilities and accept him despite it, and treat him with the utmost love and respect, for as long as he shall live?”

“I will.” Loki’s quiet voice carried through the lofty hall, and echoed off its walls.

“Stephen. I have loved many before you, but none had come as close to my heart as you.”

Stephen held Loki’s gaze, steadfast and unfaltering.

“I vow that I will never love another as deeply as I love you, and to prove my love, I vow to you the Vow For Two Worlds - ”

Loki choked back on his tears as he fought to regain his composure. “For my love goes beyond life and is eternal; even if death were to part us, I will seek you. And I will find you. Just as you have found me.”

“This, I vow to thee.” Loki’s intrinsic magic stirred to bear witness to his eternal words, and soon, green began to join the wisps of golden, melding together in a beautiful lattice of mystical energy and seidr –

Thor rose from the throne, holding Stormbreaker abreast, grasping its handle with both hands.

“I, Thor Odinson, King of Asgard, in the name of Odin Allfather, proclaim you, Loki of Asgard and you, Dr Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supreme, duly and rightly wedded in the eyes of the Norns, and by the laws of man, and the Gods.”

The blue flame grew and shot skyward –

“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you His Royal Highness Prince Loki of Asgard and His Royal Highness the Prince Consort of Asgard, Dr Stephen Strange.

_Long may they live_

_Happy may they be_

_Blest with content_

_And from misfortune free.”_

 

The guests echoed Thor’s well wishes in unison, quickly following through with a thunderous applause, and the Great Hall erupted in cheers and whistles.

“Congratulations, both of you.” Thor smiled serenely. With a flick of his hand, “You may now go on and do that thing.”

“Thing?” Loki lifted an elegant eyebrow.

“He meant this – ” Stephen leaned over and gave his husband their first kiss as newlyweds on the lips, light and chaste.

“Oh, come _on_ …” Someone moaned loudly from somewhere down the hall. It sounded too much like Tony to be anybody else.

Oh _screw_ it

Stephen grabbed Loki around the waist and kissed him fully and deeply, and time stood still –

For at this moment in time, there was no one but them.

Just him and his Loki.

He stopped for a quick breath, dimly aware of the hoots and merry cries all around them, but the only thing in his line of vision was Loki; Stephen was about to swoop and kiss him again had he not felt something wrap around his legs.

He looked down, crazily thinking that it was one of the Einherjar, come to take him away for breaking protocol – and laughed.

Stephen bent down to extricate Stian’s arms from around his legs, and lifted him in the air amid peals of joyous laughter and squeals. He locked an arm around their son, and the other around his husband, and resumed his husbandly duty of kissing Loki once more.

He had been alone for the longest time, having lost his sister, then his mother, and finally his father; braving tragedy after tragedy, lost and utterly on his own…

_I am home._

Stephen Strange was alone no longer.

_This is home._

____________________________________________

_New York, present time_

 

“What is this place, Daddy?”

“When your soul leaves your body, you need a place to rest,” Stephen murmured, kneeling. “This is where my sister rests.”

“You have a sister too, Daddy?”

“I had one, Stian.” Stephen ran his hand over the writing on the tombstone, tracing his fingers over her name reverently. “She’s…not with us anymore. At least, not physically.”

“She’s gone to heaven?” Stian squatted and placed a small bouquet of white carnations down on the ground just as Stephen instructed. “Like Connla?”

Stephen nodded.

“Will I get to see her one day?”

“Yes, I hope you’ll get to meet your Aunt Donna one day.”

“How will I know it’s her?” Stian asked, propping the flowers up again, after they had slid down the side of the gravestone.

“Oh you’ll know. She has eyes like mine and reddish hair just like Aífe’s. You won’t miss her.”

“Do you have a sister, Pappa?”

“I had a sister too, yes.”

“What did she look like, Pappa? Did she look like Aífe too?”

“She actually looked a lot like me…disturbingly…”

“Will I get to see her?”

Loki smiled sweetly. “Heavens no. You will never get to see her. Not if I can help it.”

Stian climbed to his feet and stood on tiptoe to peer at Aífe who was fast asleep in her carrier in Loki’s arms, his eyes suddenly solemn and haunted.

“What is it, Stian?”

“Will my sister go to heaven before me too?”

Taken aback by the question, Loki took a few seconds to center himself and find the right words to say.

“Not for a very, very long time, sweetheart.” Unconsciously he stroked his daughter’s bonnet-covered head. “Not with you looking after her, hmm?”

Stian still looked like he was about to cry.

Loki looked to Stephen helplessly, who could only shake his head.

_Kids say the darndest things._

“Hey buddy, what do you say we go somewhere fun?” Stephen ruffled his hair. “How about Disneyland?”

“Disneyland?” Stian sniffed. “Where’s that, Daddy? Does it have snow?”

Stephen cringed. Ever since his ski trip, all Stian wanted to see was snow. “No…but it has horses?”

“Yay! Let’s go!” Gone were the gloom and doom as Stian pumped his little fist in the air.

“What are we waiting for, Daddy? Chop chop!”

And later that evening,

“What are we doing here?” Loki asked suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of having dinner? Stian’s dead on his feet, and the food here is _awful_ , remember?”

“We’re staying here for the night.” When Stian’s head started to loll, Stephen hoisted Stian higher up his shoulder.

“Really, Strange?” Loki stared at him blankly. “Here?”

“The beds are atrociously hard, and the walls atrociously thin.” He vaguely remembered the guest who had the misfortune of staying next door to Stephen banging away at the wall, remembered responding by lifting the silencing spell altogether –

Come to think of it, it might have even been the good Captain Rogers he saw leaving the room the next day, Loki laughed silently in his head.

“Come on, Loki...” Stephen cajoled. “It’s our sixth-year anniversary.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a hopeless romantic, Dr Strange?”

“No one needs to.” Stephen walked over to him and kissed Aífe’s forehead, tasting cinnamon sugar on his lips. Strange. “I admit to it freely.”

“I am hopelessly…” Keeping Stian securely fastened to him, Stephen sought his lips, seeking the sugar from the churros Loki must have been secretly eating, “Madly…in love…with you.” He successfully punctuated each pause with a kiss.

_Yum._

“Shall we retire to our rooms then, Doctor?” Loki teased, his voice husky.

Stephen laughed giddily as the memories came back in a rush –

With a wave of his hand, the front doors to the hotel swung open as if by magic.

“After you.”

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now, folks. I poured my heart and my soul into this and it's been a truly cathartic experience, for me personally. To those who've been sticking to the story since the beginning, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. To my beloved readers who would leave comments on every single chapter..you are very dear to me. You know who you are. This is for you. 
> 
> May the spirit of Strangefrost live on and gain a wider following for this OTP is just...sigh. I have no words.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know the story's long finished, but these are just a few vignettes I wrote long after I finished The Amendment; I know I'm running behind on updating The Two for One Special, but things have been a bit busy, I'm so sorry and this is my way of apologising. 

_Missing Scene, Chapter 2_

 

“Valkyrie?” Thor’s eyes and voice sharpened at the sight of his brother. He dropped to his knees, afraid to touch, afraid not to. “What happened?”

“He got pregnant and collapsed,” Valkyrie grunted.

“What?” Thor was not computing for he was finding it hard to; Loki was a far cry from the robust picture of health he had been just a minute ago. Now he looked like a corpse. “What do you mean _pregnant?_ ”

Valkyrie did not answer. She gestured to one of her men, “Run along to the Healing Halls, tell them there’s an emergency with Prince Loki.” Her smaller hands were already grappling for the Prince’s shoulders. “Help me lift him, Thor.”

“I’ve got him Valkyrie.” With hardly any effort, Thor scooped Loki into his arms. “Stephen?”

Valkyrie nodded. “I’m on it. Somebody please get the Prince Consort on the line?” Moments later, somebody handed her a mobile and Valkyrie felt immense relief when Stephen picked up even before the first dialing tone was over.

“Fancy Man?” Val said tersely.

“Yes?” He was all manners of snappish and very wary and very anxious all rolled into one; it was the Emergency Royal Line after all.

“Emergency situation. It’s Loki.”

A momentary, stunned silence. The Valkyrie had never once said Loki’s name all proper, not in all the years he had known her.

“I’m on my way.”

 

___________________________________________________

 

 

_Missing Scene, Chapter 4_

 

“Just like we did the last time, Thor. Easy does it. Not too much, not too fast.” Stephen positioned himself at the head of the bed. He gestured at his brother-in-law to sit.

“You are sure this is safe, Stephen?” Thor stared at the figure lying on the bed.

Loki was as pale as a ghost; now that Stephen had put him to sleep, Thor would have thought he was looking at his brother’s corpse had it not been for the steady rise and fall of Loki’s chest.

A muscle at Stephen’s jaw twitched. “It worked the last time.”

Thor did not look all that convinced. “I am not questioning your competence, Brother. I am just…concerned.”

“We all are,” Stephen said quietly.

He watched Thor pick Loki’s hand off the bed and clasp it between his giant hands.

“You can feel it too, can’t you?” Stephen asked in a hollow voice. “His seidr?”

“It’s waning, yes.” Thor’s forehead creased further. “It’s not just that, is it? It’s failing.”

“He won’t survive if we don’t do anything, Thor,” Stephen said numbly. “The pregnancy’s taking too much out of him.”

And soon there would be nothing left of Loki to take.

“And still Loki is refusing to –” Thor abruptly stopped. He could not bring himself to say it. Not when Stephen was looking at him with such grief in his eyes; no one was more torn in this situation than Loki’s husband, and father of the child Loki was carrying, surely.

“You know Loki,” was all Stephen could say.

“Unfortunately,” Thor sighed.

Well. He supposed there was no harm in trying. It was a miracle that Thor’s seidr was compatible with Loki despite not being of the same species to begin with.

Thor gave a nod. “I’m ready, Brother.”

Stephen placed a palm on the sleeping Loki’s forehead. He willed his magic in, preparing to receive Thor’s elemental energy and equilibrate it with Loki's homeostasis so it could safely replenish Loki's seidr.

And hopefully cure him.

 _Please_ , Stephen prayed.

“Go ahead, Thor.”

_Please let this work._

Stephen had never prayed so hard in his life; he did not stop praying as tense minutes passed and Thor kept pumping more seidr through.

But when Loki’s eyes suddenly flew open and the screams of unspeakable agony began to shatter the silence…

When blood began to spread underneath Loki, soaking the bed all the way through until it was dripping onto the floor..

Stephen knew that no one had been listening to his prayers.

He was on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END (For real, this time)


End file.
